Stupid Ambitions For A Witch
by what the face
Summary: Rachel Berry was a Slytherin with Muggle ambitions. Noah Puckerman was a Gryffindor with a superiority complex. They were pretty much born to hate eachother, and up until their seventh year at Hogwarts, they did. Glee characters in Harry Potter universe.
1. Letters, But Not Dear John Ones

**Title: **Stupid Ambitions For A Witch

**Pairings: **Rachel/Puck, Rachel/Jesse, Puck/Rachel

**Fandoms: **Characters from the Glee universe, living in the Harry Potter world without Harry Potter characters. Make sense? It does in my mind anyway.

**Genre: **Romance/Drama/Humour/Fantasy Hybrid.

**A/N: **Okay, so I haven't written any fanfiction in a long long time now! I may be a little rusty but I think I can handle it. This story is going to be from Rachel Berry's POV. She is a seventh year Hogwarts student in Slytherin house. Before I get questions asking why she's in that house, I will say that not all Slytherin's are evil - case proven by Severus Snape - but they _are_ known for their ambition - just like Rachel is!

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><p>Rachel Berry stared at the letter a tawny brown Hogwarts owl had clutched in her tiny beak. It bore the Hogwarts seal, which hadn't surprised her at all. She'd been confidently expecting it. Rachel fed the owl a small treat in exchange for the parchment and watched it fly away before she hurried downstairs. Her hands were shaking as her face lit up with a massive, show-stopping grin. She had a look that could cure cancer.<p>

"Dad! Daddy! Look what came in the mail," she sang, bursting into the kitchen to the shock of her two fathers.

Hiram Berry's face lit up with a grin much like his daughters. "Well, open it!" he exclaimed before dramatically winking, "I bet it's from Dumbledore himself."

Rachel pulled a chair out from under the dining table and took a seat next to Logan Berry, who had not yet looked up from his newspaper. "Dad," she smiled, "This is a big moment for me. Being Head Girl is one of the stepping stones that lead to my dream of being a star on Broadway."

Logan glanced up from the _Daily Prophet_ and forced himself to grimace. He was usually very supportive of his daughter, but he just didn't understand her fixation with Muggle musical theatre.

"I just don't see why you're so set on- on this_ Broadway _thing, sweetheart," he whined as Hiram frowned, "Why not follow the family business and become a Healer?"Rachel tried not to show her annoyance. "Dad, it is impossible to follow the family business as we don't actually have one."

"But-"

"Our angel is right, Logan," Hiram chuckled, "We don't actually own St. Mungo's."

Logan spluttered incoherently, "Well, of course I know that! It was just- I was-"

"Don't strain yourself," Hiram replied in a mocking yet soothing tone, lovingly slapping his partner on the back. He turned to Rachel, "Open the letter, sunshine."

Rachel looked at her two fathers and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. They were so different; she didn't know how they were in love. She was extremely against opposites attracting. How could she ever fall in love with someone who disagreed with everything she believed in?

Pushing those thoughts out of her mind, she tore open the envelope without hesitation. When she was younger she'd always quickly ripped off the bandaid instead of slowly peeling it away. She did it so that the pain was lessened.

Hands shaking slightly, she unrolled the parchment in a hurry. The usual typed words regarding supplies needed for the upcoming school year covered the entirety of the first page. Unfazed, Rachel didn't bother to read them just yet. She needed to see writing confirming what she'd been dreaming of since her first year at Hogwarts. She turned the parchment over, expecting to see a small, personal message written by Dumbledore himself.

She didn't find one.

Hiram noticed his daughter's face fall immediately. He had a sixth sense for Rachel's feelings and thoughts. "Perhaps another letter will come," he offered, his own voice wary. He somehow knew that no more letters would come.

"No," Rachel said, putting the letter down on the dining table and giving him a weak smile, "They send it with the supplies list."

Hiram immediately reached for his daughter, pulling her into his arms for a big bear hug. Rachel buried her head against his shoulder and waited for the tears to come. After a minute or so, she realised that they hadn't. Feeling strange, she excused herself from the kitchen and once again made her way upstairs to her bedroom. She always cried when she was alone.

She gently pushed open the door, slipping inside the quaint room. The baby pink walls loomed up around her, enclosing her from the rest of the world. As she stared at the countless Broadway posters and Slytherin banners plastered on the walls, she wondered why she wasn't crying.

"What's wrong with me?" Rachel whispered dramatically, slowly sitting on her luxurious double bed. She sat with her hands curled in her lap, her feet side by side and her back incredibly straight. Although she didn't practice ballet as often as she would've liked, she danced often enough to have achieved her incredible posture. Due to Hogwarts being a boarding school, Rachel could only attend ballet lessons irregularly. Sometimes, she wished she had been born a Muggle.

She immediately regretted thinking that. She was reminded of the strange Squib who lived on her street. His name was Jacob and he'd been in love with her since he was born, practically. Never once had she felt any sort of_ feelings_ for the creepy Jewish boy. In fact, never once had she felt any sort of _feelings_ for anyone other than Jesse St. James.

Jesse St. James, in Rachel's opinion, was the sexiest being to _ever_ grace the stone floors of the Hogwarts Dungeons. With his tousled hair and confident personality, Rachel could barely resist him. But most importantly, Jesse was the only wizard she had ever met who both understood and appreciated musical theatre. In fact, Jesse's biggest dream was to perform. He was a model Slytherin and adored by many.

Jesse would surely be Head Boy. He never let anything – or _anyone_ - get in his way.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Rachel realised that she had never_ really_ engaged in a proper conversation with the boy. The full extent of their relationship was a few remarks about the weather here and there, which she herself had made. When she was lucky, he had actually turned and looked at her when he replied.

It's not as if Jesse were rude, Rachel immediately ammended inside her head. It was the fact that she wasn't particularly well-liked at Hogwarts. Known for being bossy and demanding, she had scared away almost all possible friends by the end of first year. Most boys were terrified of her, and not, as Rachel believed, because they felt inferior when in comparison to her. She was just a little too terrifying.

The tears still hadn't arrived. Rachel, frustrated and upset, pulled back the blankets and climbed into bed. She didn't bother to change out of her clothes or even to remove her make up, which to Rachel on any other day would have been blasphemous.

But today didn't matter. She just wished she could forget that stupid letter.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading. I promise the next chapter will be longer and will be updated within the next few days! Please review with your thoughts :-)


	2. What A Train Wreck

**A/N: **No reviews yet but I'm hoping that will change! Although it is once again really short, here's the second chapter. Enjoy!

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><p>Rachel Berry made her way down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, her robes already on and her hair tied in a tight ponytail. The feeling of the Prefect badge on her chest was calming. Although she wasn't Head Girl, she still had a position of authority.<p>

She and her partner, David Karofsky, had been given the back of the train to patrol. Rachel wasn't really sure how David had managed to become a Prefect. He didn't really seem to care about setting things straight and keeping students in line. Over the last two years they had worked together, Rachel had always tried to do the right thing. David was different. He had a very _Slytherin _approach to authority.

Rachel was a very strange Slytherin. She didn't have the heartlessness that most of her peers possessed. She didn't enjoy bullying, as she was often bullied herself. But she was proud to be a part of her house. Although she sometimes felt like she didn't belong, she knew she had the ability to be just as cunning as the other Slytherin students if anyone threatened her ambitions.

David suggested that they split and cover both sides of the corridor. Surprised at his initiative, which he usually lacked, Rachel agreed and took to patrolling the right side. The journey seemed as if it went forever. Rachel did enjoy bossing others around, but she ended up bored of it after a long period of time. After telling some second years off for performing minor hexes in their compartment, she wished she could sit down and shut her eyes. Second years were so frustrating. She couldn't even remember when she had been one.

Something caught Rachel's eye as she passed the last compartment at the very back of the train. Inside sat a group of seventh year Gryffindors. She found herself staying out of sight as she peered inside the compartment.

Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray and Noah Puckerman lounged around inside, speaking to one another about Quidditch. They were all on the Gryffindor team. Noah was the captain and a Beater. Finn was a Chaser and Quinn was the Keeper.

Back in first year, almost everyone had wondered why Quinn Fabray was sorted into Gryffindor house. She was, well, kind of a bitch. In most students' opinions, this immediately meant you were _born _to be a Slytherin.

But something shocking had happened in fifth year. Quinn Fabray, the Christian pure-blood witch, had fallen pregnant to Noah Puckerman, a _mudblood. _

Quinn had endured endless bullying throughout her pregnancy. She and Noah, or _Puck _as he was more commonly known, had disgraced themselves. They kept the baby, of course. Quinn's family only hated one thing more than sex before marriage, and that was abortion. The baby had been adopted almost a year and a half ago.

To make matters more confusing, Finn had been Quinn's long time boyfriend when she had fallen pregnant with Puck's child. Sure, they'd had a long few months where they hadn't spoken at all, but now they were back together. Finn and Quinn, the school's power couple, were as strong as ever and Noah Puckerman was once again the revered bad-ass of Hogwarts. Rachel found it incredibly strange that they could all still hang out with one another after everything that had happened.

"Oh God," Quinn muttered, "No body look now, but Ru-Paul is totally giving us the goo-goo eyes."

Rachel squeaked and quickly began to walk away. She hadn't thought they could see her!

The compartment door slammed open. "Doing your daily stalking, Berry?" Puck drawled, smirking. Quinn leant against the door behind him with an amused expression on her face. Finn hadn't moved from his seat. He was enjoying the view from the window looking slightly comatose.

Rachel, mentally preparing herself for insults, turned around with her arms crossed over her chest. "You know perfectly well that as a Prefect, it's my duty to watch over a certain part of the train."

"Prefect my ass," Puck chuckled, "You just wanted a piece of the Pucky-Puck."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Please, I wouldn't want something I could easily have."

Quinn laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'll tell you something, Ru-Paul. You're not as special as you think you are. Where are you friends? Oh wait, I'm sorry. You don't have any."

"As I've already pointed out, I'm on Prefect duty until we arrive at Hogwarts. I don't get to sit in the compartments with my _friends."_

"And who would you sit with anyway? T-T-T-Tina?"

Rachel ignored Quinn's scrape at the Hufflepuff's stutter. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to report you two," she said smugly, whipping out her roll of parchment and scribbling down their names, "For harassment."

Puck chuckled. "Karofsky's already reported me three times today. That shit don't faze me."

Rachel resisted the urge to roll her eyes once again. "Whatever," she replied, "I'll be on my way. I'll be expecting you all to turn up to detention with Hagrid tonight."

Finn looked up, "Not me though? I didn't do anything."

Rachel smiled. "No, Finn. You didn't do anything at all."

Rachel always enjoyed the feast on the first night of a new school year. The Great Hall was filled with beautiful music and enchanting conversation. Of course, she didn't really engage in conversation with anyone other than the first years. She greeted them with the brightest smile of all the Slytherin's and was greeted in return with sullen expressions. It didn't bother her though, she wore her black pointed hat with pride and tied her green and silver tie extra tight.

After the feast, Rachel led the first years to the dungeons and told the rest of the Slytherin's how to get into the common room. Once everyone was settled down, she collected one of her new text books and sat on a hard chair in the common room, right by the fire place.

A tall, lanky boy with brown curly hair entered. Looking up from one of her new text books, Rachel smiled at him as he entered through the large, concealed double doors. Her heart was in her throat.

"Hello, Jesse."

The boy with the curly hair gave her a strange look. "Sorry. But what's your name again?"

Rachel cringed a little. She wondered how, after six years together, he still didn't know her name. "It's Rachel. Look, I just wanted to say congratulations on becoming Head Boy. I knew you would get it."

"Thankyou," he replied, smirking and sitting in a chair opposite, "I guess it was pretty obvious."

She put her book down on the nearby table. "Of course it was. I mean, you're perfect…"

Fear filled her as she realised what she had said.

"And by that I mean perf- perfect for the job," Rachel mumbled, looking at her feet, "So, Brittany Pierce is Head Girl. A very strange decision of Dumbledore's if you ask me."

"Well, she is in Ravenclaw. There has to be some brains hidden in that head of hers," Jesse replied humorously before adding, "Although she did tell me that her cat had been reading her diary."

Rachel laughed a little too loudly. This was the longest conversation she'd ever had with Jesse St. James. She didn't want to screw anything up.

"Still going after Broadway?" Jesse asked, just making conversation.

Her heart swelled. He'd remembered!

"Definitely. I'll be applying for Julliard within the next few weeks."

"That's a Muggle college, isn't it?" he turned up his nose, "Are you sure about that?"

"Well, of course. It's the best of the best."

Jesse looked sceptical. "There are plenty of good wizarding schools that can help you achieve your dreams."

Rachel nodded. "That's true. But Julliard is what I want."

He shifted his posture to lounge back into the chair. "Don't you worry about not fitting in? You weren't raised in a Muggle family."

"No," she replied, "But I've studied them through film and theatre. I've taken Muggle Studies since third year and I believe that I'm perfectly capable of fitting in. I mean, what's so different about them?"

Jesse raised his eyebrows. "Everything."

Rachel shook her head slowly. She didn't understand the aversion to Muggles that most wizards had.

"Rochelle, right?"

"It's Rachel," she said, trying not to get irritated. She understood that Jesse St. James led a very privileged and busy life. He could be forgiven for forgetting names.

"Rachel, they don't have magic. You realise that right?"

"Yes," she answered, "But they have other types of magic. Like music and acting and _art_."

"We have those things too," Jesse replied, "Why not stick with what you know? The industry is still very popular among wizards. Wizarding musical theatre is a growing trend."

She grit her teeth together and tried to relax. She wanted to make an impression, and not a bad one either. "Broadway is what I want. It's what I've always wanted."

He sat up again, musing. "Just like I've always wanted bigger muscles."

She looked at him, curious. "You're muscles are fine."

"I know," he whispered, "They're absolutely stunning, but they could be improved. Just like you. Maybe if you got a better haircut-"

"Excuse me?" Rachel asked, shocked, "My hair is fine."

"You could be attractive; Ricky," he said, "I really don't understand why your parents called you Rick. I mean, were they expecting a boy?"

Rachel stood up, exasperated. "My name is Rachel."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But all I'm saying is with a tonic or two; you could actually pass as a normal girl."

She was appalled. "I thought you were different!"

Jesse seemed confused. He paused. "Different how?"

"Well, you like musical theatre like me. You actually know what Broadway is unlike everyone else at this school! I thought you'd like me for who I am. Aren't artists meant to appreciate beauty in all forms?"

"I really don't understand anything that comes out of your mouth, Raquel," he sighed, standing up as well, "I'm going to bed. I'll see you around."

Rachel watched him go, infuriated. She realised, thankfully, that the common room had been completely empty by the time Jesse had arrived. She didn't think she could have handled the extra embarrassment if that scene had unfolded before an audience.

Following Slytherin house rules, as the last student in the common room, Rachel took out her Elm wand and extinguished the blaze in the fireplace with a simple _Aguamenti _charm before traipsing upstairs to the girl's dormitory.

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><p><strong>AN: **If you've read it, please please please review with thoughts! I'd love to hear what you think so far.


	3. Your Assignment? Get Over Yourselves

**A/N: **Hi guys. Thankyou so much for reviewing, it really means a lot to me! I will eventually get back to all of you individually. I met a published author today, his name is Archimede Fusillo and he's an Australian author with an Italian background. He's actually incredibly down to earth and a very cool guy. He spoke about being a 'closet writer' and told us that he had been one when he was our age. I'm definitely one. Only a select few know I actually write. I really enjoy the anonymity of this site because I can practice and get feedback without facing any possible embarrassment. Anyway, sorry for the long note and here's the third chapter with a little more _Puckleberry action_. Mind you, I'm not going to rush into it! Rachel and Puck should never fall in love at first sight!

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><p><em>It's well known that Slytherins hate Gryffindors<em>, Rachel thought, chewing her quill as she watched Professor Burbage, her Muggle Studies Professor, write on the blackboard. She tipped her head to the side. _So why do we have so many classes together?_

"I don't understand what electricity is, Professor," mumbled Finn, raising his hand, "Is it like… lightning?"

Everyone groaned and Professor Burbage jumped into an enthusiastic explanation.

"Just so you know, Berry… I didn't end up going to detention."

Rachel looked up into a pair of bright hazel eyes. "You shouldn't have said anything then, should you? You know I'll just give you another slip."

Puck snorted, adjusting himself so that he faced her from the desk in front, "And you know that if you do, I'll just happen to drop it on the way to Divination. Save yourself the time, my hot little Jewish-American Princess."

She knew he was mocking her. And _really_? _Divination_? Puck always did take the easy options. "Just leave me alone," she sighed, moving her gaze to the blackboard once again, "I've got enough to deal with right now."

"Oh, really?" he smirked, "Let me guess, you have to make another list detailing exactly what you did today?"

"You _know _that that was an assignment. You were in my class."

"So? Doesn't mean I did it."

Rachel took a deep breath, "Of course you didn't."

He appeared slightly offended as he exclaimed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I'm just as smart as you are!"

"Oh, really?" she mimicked his words from before, "Let me guess, you study in secret, late at night, under your sheets."

Puck waggled his eyebrows. "I guess that proves you do want the Pucky-Puck."

She scoffed. "I don't see how."

"You've thought about what I do _under the sheets," _he whispered.

She suddenly turned red, "I do not! I merely said-"

"Whatever, Berry," he laughed, turning his chair around to face the front once more, "Just to be clear… I don't go for freaks."

Rachel stared, her mouth agape. "I'm _not _a freak!"

The whole class turned to stare at her. Professor Burbage, usually a very kind woman, put her hands on her hips and gave her a death stare. "Miss Berry, do you have something you'd like to share?"

Puck erupted into loud guffaws. Rachel gulped. "No, Professor."

"I'm glad. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to continue to lesson," the Professor said stoically.

Rachel slid lower in her seat, wishing that the stone floor would open and swallow her up. A Memory Charm would even do the trick.

"As I was saying before, I've come to the decision to set you all an assignment."

"But Professor!" yelled Finn, "It's the first day of school!"

"I'm aware of that, Mr Hudson. It doesn't change anything," she grinned, "As with every assignment in Muggle Studies, no magic can be used. If you're in Gryffindor, you'll be paired with a Slytherin and vice versa-"

"Come on!" Puck shouted, "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am, Mr Puckerman. And since you caused her earlier outburst, you'll be paired with Miss Berry."

Rachel, if it was even possible, slid even lower in her seat. She was practically shaking with anger. She couldn't _possibly_ work with someone as… as _repulsive _as Noah Puckerman. He'd called her a freak!

"If I'm paired with Berry, I assure you I will perform the Cruciatus Curse on myself," he drawled, leaning back in his chair and throwing his hands behind his head, "Besides, I don't think you'd do that, Professor. You wouldn't risk losing the sight of these bad boys."

To emphasize his point, he kissed his biceps.

"You will be partnered with Miss Berry, no matter how many times you threaten us the great loss of the _bad boys," _she mocked, "Does anyone else have any complaints?"

Rachel raised her hand. "Yes, Professor. You see, as much as I understand and appreciate your methods, I really must agree with… _Puck _on this front. We can't possibly work together."

"I've made my final decision," Burbage replied, "Now, let's move on."

Puck mumbled something under his breath.

"Your assignment is based on Muggles, of course. It's quite different to anything you've ever done before. Your assignment is to create the life of a teenage Muggle."

The whole class looked confused. A giant, clumsy arm flung itself into the air.

Professor Burbage didn't bother to hide her impatience. It just wasn't her day. "Yes, Finn?"

"I- I don't get it."

"Alright," she sighed, sitting on the edge of her desk, "Next lesson, you'll pick a piece of paper out of my hat-" she pointed at her scrappy, grey pointed hat, "with a name and details on it. These words will describe what kind of person your Muggle is. As the term continues, I'll give you situations your Muggle has to deal with. Between you and your partner, you'll have to decide what the right option is. At the end of the term, just before the holidays, you and your partner will present a presentation of their life."

The wizard with the Mohawk let out a loud, sarcastic chuckle. "So, in other words, our assignment is fail-proof."

"No. This assignment is about team-work, working together to pick the right choices. As this is your last year at Hogwarts, we faculty always try to keep a focus on that. We don't want you all to leave and never see one another again."

"But what if I don't want to see anyone here again?" Rachel snapped.

Professor Burbage laughed, "Oh, trust me. I'm sure you will."

Rachel made her way to Potions, her books held tight against her chest. She was desperately trying to look happy, but after everything that had happened to her in the last twenty-four hours, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her four-poster bed and cry herself to sleep. She didn't just want _normal _crying either; she wanted big, dramatic, messy _Broadway-_style tears.

She couldn't believe she'd be spending a majority of the next few weeks with _Noah Puckerman. _She could practically feel the weight of the forthcoming annoyance and resentment. She knew, of course, that she would end up doing the assignment _completely alone._ Puck had a habit of disappearing when it got close to anything that involved assessment. Not that she minded the extra work. Doing twice the work without Noah Puckerman was certainly better than doing half of it _with _him.

Blaine Anderson grabbed a hold of her as she made her way into the dungeons, lugging her tiny cauldron, currently filled to the brim with her Potions supplies. "You okay?" he asked, immediately sensing her bad mood.

Blaine was the closest thing Rachel had to a best friend, although she had never officially referred to him using that title. In fact, she'd never referred to anyone that way.

He pulled his bronze and yellow scarf from the pocket of his cloak and hastily wrapped it around his neck. "I almost forgot how _freezing_ it is down here," he laughed before he got a grip of himself, "But, seriously, Rach… Spit it out."

She stopped as they reached the Potions classroom. "It's Jesse," she lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Jesse was a part of the seemingly endless, at least in Rachel's opinion, spiral of gloom and darkness. First of all, she'd missed out on being Head Girl, which was bad enough on its own. Then, Jesse St. James, her one true love, had told her that she could look like a _normal_ person if she changed herself. Finally, Noah Puckerman, a jock with a brain the sixe of a pea, had called her a _freak. _To make matters worse, she now had to complete a major assignment with the living caveman.

Blaine groaned, thinking of the curly-headed, conceited St. James. "How many times have I told you?"

"I know, I know… _he has his head shoved so far up his-"_

"Oesophagus."

Rachel looked at him, confused.

"I'm sorry. It's just weird when you swear! I had to replace ass with something else and that's the first thing that came to mind."

She shook her head. "I'm just being silly. I'll get over it," she smiled, trying to believe her own words. She decided then and there that she wouldn't think about it, at least not until she could finally get some _Broadway_-style tears out just before bed that night.

Just as Blaine was about to say something, Professor Slughorn announced his arrival and swept both the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs into the room. He gave them simple instructions and they set to work on brewing a simple practice potion in their cauldrons.

"So, anything exciting happen to you today?" Rachel asked, watching as Blaine stirred their concoction. He'd always forgotten to bring his own cauldron and apparently today wasn't an exception.

"Oh, you know."

"Well…?"

Blaine tried to hide his tiny grin. "There's a transfer student in my Transfiguration class."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "That doesn't happen often."

"I know," he mused, "You… you didn't see him standing awkwardly amongst all the first years last night? The Gryffindors were in stitches."

She scoffed, remembering Muggle Studies. "Of course they were."

"Hey," Blaine warned, "Remember that to everyone else, Slytherins are the baddies. Gryffindors are _god among men_."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "I don't understand it. Sure, most of them are nice, but… some of them really do think they're gods, you know?"

The Hufflepuff said something in return, but Rachel didn't hear it. "Noah Puckerman?" she asked, sure that that was what he had said, "Yes, he's an insufferable-"

"Whoa," Blaine held his free hand up and gave her a strange look, "I didn't say anything about Puck. I said something that _rhymed _with Puck, but not-"

"Okay. I get it."

An uneasy silence ensued. Rachel felt herself turning red as she realised she'd broken her promise with herself. She mentally told herself; _Take Two. Lights, Camera... Action!_ "So, anyway…"

Blaine smiled, back to his usually bubbly self. "Oh, yeah! Well, the transfer got sorted when the first years did. I know right, in front of everyone. How embarassing. He's in Ravenclaw, so of course he turned up to Transfiguration and knocked the socks off of Flitwick. He's really… strange... but in a _good_ way, you know?"

She made a non-committal noise. "What's his name?"

"Kurt Hummel. You know, like from that stupid Muggle film you make me watch every Christmas."

"It's the _Sound of Music_, and it's not stupid," she huffed considerably.

"Whatever," he chuckled, looking into the cauldron and apparently deciding the potion wasn't ready, "He has the weirdest sense of style, but I guess he inherited that from Beuxbatons. I mean... blue silk? Come on!"

Rachel found herself drifting out of the conversation. She was thinking about stage lights again. She kept having this reoccurring dream where she'd landed the part of Maria in an upcoming Broadway Revival of _West Side Story. _This morning when she'd awoken, her eyes had been a little cloudy. Santana and Lauren, her dorm mates, had given her alarmed and slightly terrified stares.

"He's already had his uniform altered so that it fits him perfectly," Blaine continued, in a reverie, "He did something with his cloak. I don't think I can even describe it. His look… it's like a mix between Lady Gaga and I don't know… someone weirdly good-looking."

Rachel snapped out of her day-dreaming. "Sounds like somebody has a little crush."

Blaine shrugged. He wasn't scared of his sexual orientation anymore. Well, if he was, he didn't show anyone. He'd been out and proud since their third year when he'd bewitched the ceiling with _I, Blaine Anderson am a homosexual male. And if any of you have something bad to say about it, you can kiss my ass! _In reality, the writing had been a hell of a lot more crude. Rachel had purposely censored the exact words from her memory.

"Wait. You know who Lady Gaga is?"

"Yeah, Rach. When I stayed at your house last Christmas I swear you put the Imperius on me and forced me to watch MTV for, like, _seven_ hours straight. It wasn't of my own accord or anything."

Rachel raised her hand to let Slughorn know the potion was ready for his assessment. She looked at the Hufflepuff as she did so, feeling carefree for the first time all day, "Sure, Blaine. You like Muggle television, admit it."

Blaine saw her raised arm and stopped stirring the cauldron, letting his own arm flop onto the desk. He pretended to be extremely worn out, breathing heavily and panting like a dog. Finally, he gathered his composure. "Fine, fine. I like _Project Runway_. Is that really that bad?"

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! I really enjoyed some of the suggestions I got in my last set of reviews and obviously used one of them here, to a certain degree. I did originally plan for Blaine to be in the story, but not as Rachel's closest friend. So thankyou for that idea, you most likely know who you are ;-) muhaha! So, once again please review and I look forward to introducing you to French! Kurt.


	4. Lists They Make About Silly Things

**A/N: **Hi guys. Haven't updated in like five days, sorry! I've been busy and I have to say that this is a very short chapter. I will probably get around to posting another one in the next two days. Just wanted to update so that no one lost interest. I recently saw my high school's production of the Broadway classic, _Guys and Dolls. _Everyone was amazing! I really wish I'd been a part of it, but I was really scared of what people would think. Our school productions are always really cool, in 2009 we did _Oliver! _but unfortunately, I was unable to see it. The next production will be in 2013, when I'm in my last year of high school. I'm definitely going to audition. I'd really love to be an actress. But on the upside, I'm in a touring Year Ten musical this year. We tour in late December. My Drama class combines with the Music class to write our own piece that we will perform at local primary schools for SACE credits. Hehe, well I got a little excited and got carried away. I'll let you go now. Thanks so much for reviewing! I'll update either tonight, tomorrow or Wednesday :-)

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><p>Madam Pince observed the strange couple from where she stood, concealed behind a bookshelf. Her hunched, spindly shoulders curled as she tried to get a closer look. She knew who they were. Noah Puckerman had been her own version of hell for the last six years. Rachel Berry was a nice girl, but a right pain in her old, wrinkly, well, <em>behind. <em>

Puck leant back on his chair, _violating_ library rules, and watched as Rachel Berry scribbled something down on her roll of parchment. He rolled his eyes and said something, smirking, to which Rachel countered with a stony glare.

"You know, I recall Professor Burbage stating clearly that this is a _group _assignment," she snapped, "And I don't see you doing anything at all."

"I like it when your bossy," Puck drawled sarcastically.

"You're infuriating," she sighed, returning to her scribbling, "Besides, I'm not bossy. I'm a natural born leader."

"Really? Because I don't see anyone following you, Berry," he chuckled. Slowly, he straightened up and peered at the nearest bookshelf. "Madam Pince?"

The vulture-like librarian stuck her head out of the shelves and stared at them. "Yes, Mr Puckerman?" she croaked, blushing.

"What are you doing?"

"I-I, uh…" Madam Pince stuttered, looking from left to right in search of an excuse. As an idea suddenly dawned on her, she threw her glasses onto the floor. Rachel and Puck looked at her in shock. "Oh! I dropped my glasses. Silly me. Now, children… _back to work," _she hissed, flustered, as she bent to pick them up.

Rachel shook her head once the librarian was out of sight. "She's neurotic."

"Coming from you!" Puck scoffed, "Berry, you're one step away from an asylum."

"I'm not!" she exclaimed. Madam Pince, from her perch at the library desk, sent her a glare. Rachel quickly looked away. "My mental health is perfectly fine, thankyou."

Bored, Puck ran his fingers through his Mohawk and whistled. Following his eyes, Rachel's own gaze came to rest upon Quinn, Santana and Brittany, who were wearing their black school skirts incredibly short. Rachel, looking back at her parchment, scowled and crossed her legs self-consciously.

"Damn," Puck said appreciatively, "Don't tell Finn, but Quinn's lookin' better and better these days. It's getting hard to remember when she was fat last year."

"She was pregnant, Puck. With _your _baby."

"But she was still fat," he shrugged, then added appreciatively, "Which is the opposite of what she is now."

She huffed. "You were the one who made her that way."

"Hey, I didn't make her do anything she didn't want to do! Get Quinn to drink enough Butterbeer and she'll fall pray to anyone or any_thing_."

"Fantastic," Rachel sighed, letting her head fall onto the desk. She eventually sat up and looked at Puck, who was currently admiring Santana Lopez's derriere. "While I do enjoy listening to your rather sick and _twisted_ philosophy… We actually have an assignment to do."

He groaned and dragged his hand through his hair. "Fine. Read the stupid thing, Berry."

Rachel straightened and put her hands on her hips. "You know, I do have a first name."

"Whatever," he muttered, staring at her with annoyance, "But, you have to admit, it suits you better. When you're angry you kind of go purple… just like a berry."

She took a deep breath. "I do not. Now, please be quiet before I use an expletive."

"That'd be cool," he mused, again turning to look at Quinn and her friends, "I've never heard you swear."

"I don't feel the need to use provocative language."

"Well, fuck that_," _Puck exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before slamming them down on the desk. He chuckled as he watched her shocked expression. "Come on then, _Rachel. _Let's do this; I've got Quidditch practice at five."

She grimaced, reaching for the parchment in front of her. She read it aloud, "Amy Mann. Seventeen years old, lives with her two parents and three younger brothers. Lives in Australia-"

"Wait. Does this mean she rides a kangaroo to school and says stupid things like 'G'day Mate'?" Puck asked, dumbfounded.

Rachel merely put the sheet down and stared at him. "Of course not. Australians don't ride kangaroos to school."

"Muggles are weird. You never know what they use for transportation."

"They use cars, of course. And planes and boats. Trains, too. Just like the Hogwarts Express," she replied smugly.

"Whatever. Hurry up."

Rachel grit her teeth together and continued to read, "She's in her final year at high school, which is called Year Twelve. When she leaves school she wants to study Law at University."

"Amazing," Puck yawned sarcastically, leaning against the table. He'd apparently lost interest as soon as she'd started reading. "Now what do we actually have to _do_?"

"Well, Professor Burbage said we should just make sure we know everything about her."

He raised his eyebrows. "So, you're telling me… that I didn't actually have to be here."

"No. Of course you have to be here. We're learning."

"I don't know about you, Berry, but I have a fantastic memory. I can remember the name of every girl I've slept with."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I highly doubt that. What, do you have a list of your conquests?"

"A mental list, I guess."

"Really?" she asked dryly, "Well, then. What's her name?"

Rachel pointed at Ravenclaw sitting in the far corner of the Library. Her red hair covered her eyes as she read, devouring every word.

"Geez, I do have standards, Berry."

"I told you. It's Rachel. And what do you mean? Helena is one of the prettiest girls in Ravenclaw."

"She's too smart. She'd know that I'm using her. I mean, you don't want a girl to _know_ that she's a cheap one night stand. You want that shock to come in the morning, after she's crawled out of the common room, clutching her robes."

"You're disgusting."

"Thanks, babe. You don't know how much that means to me."

"Ugh," Rachel sighed, looking at the clock on the wall, "You'd better go to Quidditch practice. I've got to meet Blaine anyway."

Puck took his quill from the table and shoved it carelessly into his pocket. He hadn't bothered to bring ink; he knew that Rachel would be prepared. Rachel gathered her many books and rolls of parchment, along with her ink and several quills. Her arms were full, but she wouldn't dare ask Puck to help her carry them. He'd probably say no anyway.

"Do you promise that you'll remember all those things? They're important facts and we'll need to become very familiar with them."

"Yeah, whatever. Muggle Studies is a bludge anyway, so it's not a big deal if I don't."

Rachel bristled, pulling her items closer to her chest. "It's a big deal for me! Getting perfect N.E.W.T results is on my list of things to accomplish before graduat-"

"Rachel Berry has a _list?"_

She shut her mouth quickly, knowing that _Noah Puckerman _would most definitely mock her if he learnt anything else about the list. "It's not a big deal."

"I've got a list."

Intrigued, she stared at him with wide eyes. She didn't just have a big nose in the literal sense. "What's on it?"

"My conquests," he chuckled and winked at her before turning and muttering over his shouler, "I'm going."

He didn't say anything else; he didn't even offer a polite goodbye. But that was Noah Puckerman for you. Rachel watched as he went, annoyed, trying to stop the books in her arms from overflowing onto the stone floor.

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><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading! Sorry this was so short, but I have a lot of homework to do! Unfortunately it hasn't magically disappeared :-( God, I wish I was a witch. It would be one of the first things I'd do. So, yeah, thanks for reading again! Please please review :-)


	5. You Want Me Like I Want Cougars

**A/N: **Sorry! I know that I said I'd get a chapter out before Wednesday and I failed on that promise, but I just wasn't inspired at the time. So, here you go, the longest chapter to date. Oh, and in response to one reviewers question a while back, yes I will most likely be introducing more characters later on in the story. For now, I'm going to focus on establishing the relationships between the characters I've already introduced. After that, I'll see how I go :-)

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><p>Tina Cohen-Chang had a stutter. It was a well known fact and something picked on by ninety percent of Slytherin House. She was a Hufflepuff, a nice but shy girl who couldn't exactly phrase things the way she wanted to. Rachel Berry, who could <em>always <em>phrase things the way she wanted to, felt sorry for her.

"A-are you going to watch the Q-Quidditch this afternoon?" Tina asked, hovering by the Slytherin table at breakfast. It was a Saturday and Rachel had been planning on spending the small amount of free time singing Broadway tunes in the Girls Dormitory. Everyone would be at the match, so her voice wouldn't be heard by a soul. Not that Rachel thought she was bad. She knew she was brilliant. In all honesty, she just didn't want to be interrupted.

Rachel looked up from her syrup covered pancakes and shook her head. "I don't think so, Tina. I've got a lot of…"

She trailed off, having caught sight of none another than the infamous Noah Puckerman, dangling a Ravenclaw scarf on the tip of his wand, just out of reach of its owner. He wore his red and gold Quidditch robes, his worn, old broom tucked under his left arm. His hazel eyes were alight with mischief. Anger bubbled up inside her.

"Of w-what?"

"Huh?" Rachel mumbled, looking back at Tina and plastering a new smile, this one _very_ fake, back onto her face, "Oh, I have a lot of homework to do. My Charms essay is due Monday."

"I-I'm in your Charms class. W-we don't have one," Tina countered, watching Rachel with curiously. She just wanted someone to sit with.

Rachel bit her lip and tried not to blush. She'd been off her game lately. She didn't know why. "In all honesty, I'm not a fan of Quidditch, Tina. Sorry."

"That's okay," Tina smiled shyly, "I'll see you in C-Charms then."

Rachel watched the other girl as she walked away, then turned and drank the last of her Pumpkin juice before standing up and making her way over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Excuse me," she snapped, marching up to her project partner, "What exactly do you think your doing?"

Puck turned to face her and smirked, still holding the scarf above the head of the victim. The Ravenclaw had long given up in trying to retrieve it. He had instead began to straighten out his uniform, wearing a sullen expression on his elf-like face.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Berry?" he drawled, "I'm studying."

"Studying?" she exclaimed, exasperated, "How is this studying?"

"I'm observing how long this guy'll take to crack!"

"I assure you, you bumbling oaf, zat will be longer zan your sorry life will be," the Ravenclaw huffed, sitting down on the bench behind him.

Rachel whipped out her wand and performed a simple summoning charm. The scarf flew into her hand before Puck could do anything about it. "Put your wand away. I'm writing you down for detention again," she said promptly, tucking the scarf under her arm and pocketing her wand. The Ravenclaw with the French accent watched her with tired eyes. All the same, he had a smirk on his face, looking similar to how Puck had looked only seconds ago.

"Come on, Berry," Puck rolled his eyes, "Can't you think of a better punishment? One I'll actually bother to go to?"

Rachel pulled out her quill and scribbled on her roll of parchment. "No. You'll be at detention tonight with Filch, or I'll go to Dumbledore myself."

"Dumbledore'll just laugh. He's chill. He won't give a shit," he shrugged, "Besides, it was just a little fun. You didn't mind, did ya Hummel?"

"Of course not," the other boy said sarcastically as he raised his hand in a funny little gesture, "'ere I am, 'appy, before zis- zis _imbecile _waltzes in 'ere and steals my scarf!"

"I understand perfectly," Rachel tutted, pushing the quill and parchment back inside her robes. She removed the scarf from under her arm and handed it to the French boy. "Kurt, right?"

"Oui," he said stonily, watching her with weary eyes. He'd been through a lot of torment over the last few weeks.

"Like Kurt von Trapp," Rachel smiled.

For a second, she could have sworn she saw a sparkle in his eyes. "I know ze film," he replied, tying his blue and bronze scarf around his neck. When he stood up, Rachel noticed his outfit. In comparison to the plain woollen sweaters and jeans she had become accustomed to on weekends, he looked like he'd just stepped out of an abstract painting. It suited him, though. Rachel could understand Blaine's weird fascination with him.

"Zankyou for 'elping," Kurt murmured, making his way out of the great hall with great speed. Bewildered, Rachel and Puck stared after him.

"That kid dresses like a fucking clown," Puck laughed heartily before pausing. "You gonna come and swoon over me at the match, Berry?"

Annoyed, she met his light-hearted smirk with a frown. "He's right, you are an oaf."

Puck groaned. "Here we go again. Miss Priss telling me how to live my life-"

"I am not telling you how to live your life! Maybe you should just learn to stop being such an _arse."_

He looked like he was thinking about her statement. She watched his reaction with wide, curious eyes. Perhaps, someone had finally gotten through to the notorious Noah Puckerman. And that someone was her.

He smirked again. Apparently not.

He started laughing as Rachel's eyes widened. "You so want me."

"I beg your pardon?" she snapped, now incredibly confused.

Puck fell into guffaws. Turning to face the rest of the Great Hall, he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Attention everyone, but Rachel Berry here has just admitted that she wants a piece of the _Pucky Puck! _And if you don't understand what I mean, maybe you should ask Filch for one of those pamphlets on safe sex-"

The brunette slammed her hand over his mouth as the whole of the Great Hall, save a few confused first and second years, burst out laughing. "You take that back now. I will not associate myself with you, you foul-"

He struggled free of her grip and climbed onto the Ravenclaw table, much to the annoyance of several students around them. "Rachel Berry wants to have sexual-"

"_Silencio!"_

Suddenly, Puck raised his hands to his throat. Unsuccessfully, he tried to continue his yelling. His eyes widened as he came to terms with what had just happened. Struggling to talk, he turned and looked down at Rachel, who had her wand pointed directly at him.

"Get down now, _Puckerman," _she hissed through grit teeth.

Dazed, Puck followed her instructions and allowed her to pull him out of the Great Hall and into the hallway beyond. Laughter followed them out.

"Why did you do that?" she snapped when they were out of sight. But she already knew the answer. _Because I'm the Puckerone, babe. _Cue the sleazy wink and mischievous smirk.

Puck gestured to his throat, waiting for her to reverse the charm. When she reluctantly did so, he coughed loudly and dramatically.

"Well, why wouldn't I?" he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the stone wall behind him. "When a girl wants a guy, she's an ass to him."

Rachel put her hands on her hips, her wand still clutched tightly in her hand. "I think you have that the wrong way around," she said coldly.

"I'm pretty sure I don't, babe. But I have to let you know, I'm way out of your league. So, do yourself a favour-" he chuckled, "and don't get your hopes up."

Rachel tried to hide her humiliation. She didn't want anything from him, in fact, when she was around him, she felt nauseous. She felt like a loser. A failure. The only thing Rachel wanted in life was success, and Noah Puckerman made her feel like she would never, _ever _achieve it. Yet, now the whole school thought she had pursued him romantically. It hurt, she had to admit. Even though she didn't like him, she still felt like she'd been rejected. She guessed that Dumbledore had been right in not giving her the role of Head Girl. The Head Girl couldn't be the joke of Hogwarts.

No matter how many times she'd tried, she'd never been taken seriously.

Puck noticed the tears rimming her eyelashes. Taken aback, he raised a hand as if to comfort her. Remembering that she was a sorry loser and he was, well, a_ badass, _he immediately dropped it. Still, he felt pretty bad. And not bad as in _badass. _"Whoa, Berry. Are you crying? I didn't-"

"I have allergies," Rachel sniffed, looking at the floor.

A minute of silence passed. Puck shifted uncomfortably. If there was one thing he was afraid of, it was crying girls. "I-I'm sorry-"

"I don't _want _you, Noah," she hissed, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, pretending to scratch at her red eyes, "And in case you haven't noticed, neither does anyone else at this school."

She knew she was incredibly wrong. There were plenty of girls at Hogwarts who would sacrifice their first born child for a glance with Noah Puckerman. She hated to admit it, but she had been one of those girls. Back in their first year, little Rachel Berry had watched him with goo-goo eyes and responded to anything he'd said with uncontrollable giggling. In her old journals, among her drawings of Broadway and Barbra Streisand, there were pictures of Noah Puckerman. Badly drawn sketches, drawn in scratchy pink ink and labelled in bad, clumsy handwriting. His nose was always a little too small and his head always a lot too large. One time, she'd even braved the terrifying trip to the Gryffindor table in order to speak to him. She'd asked him if he'd like to be her boyfriend. Of course, he'd rejected her on the spot then too. Everyone in the Hall had erupted in a fit of laughter, a perfect parallel to now. It hadn't taken long for everyone to forget the incident, as far as she knew, even Puck had. But Rachel had always remembered, even if she'd repressed the memories so deeply that she'd almost forgotten them. It embarrassed her to remember those days. She'd seen a Noah she could change, a Noah who could be kind and loving and _hers. _

She'd seen someone who would never exist. This she'd realised a long time ago.

"Nobody wants you," she continued, not looking at him, but remembering the way he'd laughed in her face almost six years ago when her dreams of being _Mrs. Noah Puckerman _had been smashed to pieces. She almost laughed when she thought back to her naivety. "Not even the mother of your child. You weren't good enough for her… _or_ your daughter."

She'd taken it too far, which she knew perfectly well. She watched, slightly satisfied as his face crumbled. He hid his emotions so well that it was strange to watch him come undone before her very eyes.

"You're a bitch, Rachel," he muttered, realising a little too late that he'd called her by her first name, "No wonder you're in Slytherin. You can go around pretending that you're only in there for your 'ambition' or whatever the fuck you think you have, but you're just as conniving as the rest of them."

She wiped her eyes angrily, unable to look at him. She was so embarrassed. She didn't think she'd ever be able to look him in the eye again.

"If anyone ever gets in your way, you'll do anything to get them to back off. Its not a good trait."

"You're not model citizen," she replied, exasperated, "Don't you even _try_ and turn this back on me. You were the one in there teasing a transfer student for no good reason! I try to break it up and suddenly you're on the Ravenclaw table, yelling to the whole of the student population that I want to have _sexual relations _with you!"

"Whatever!" Puck shouted back at her, "I'm not a good guy, we all know that. At least I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

They each took a large gulp of air. Although Puck stared straight at her, she wouldn't look at him. The hunter and his prey. Finally, the natural order was back in place.

"Don't you have a Quidditch match?" Rachel murmured, wiping her eyes as she looked anywhere but at him. Suddenly realising that they could have been overheard, she looked towards the Great Hall. Students, dressed in their casual clothes, went on eating breakfast as if nothing had changed. Rachel even spied Blaine sitting alone at the Hufflepuff table, reading a frayed copy of a book called _The Hobbit _and snacking peacefully on an apple. It appeared that their argument had gone unnoticed by the rest of the world. Perhaps Noah's yelling hadn't been as monstrously obvious as she'd at first thought.

"Don't come," Puck spat, referring to his match that afternoon, "I wouldn't want you to fuck up everything by being close by."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said in return, turning on her heel and making her way to the dungeons, crossly wiping the mascara stains from her cheeks as she went.

That afternoon, Rachel made her way to the lake, her arms crossed against her stomach as she shivered in the cool breeze. She could hear the fanfare exceeding from the Quidditch pitch. In annoyance, she tried to drown out the sounds.

She hadn't felt like singing today. Which was strange, she realised, as she sat on the grass by the banks of the black waters. She'd never not felt like singing, not since she'd been born, presumably performing a Broadway classic as soon as she'd left the womb.

Dew had dried on the blades of green grass, undisturbed since that morning. Things were always undisturbed by the lake, besides from the occasional Saturday night when the seventh years would sneak a few Butterbeers out after dark and celebrate another week gone by. Rachel was never invited to these gatherings.

Not like she would be involved in incessant rule-breaking anyway.

Looking down at her lap, Rachel opened one of her most prized possessions. It was small thing, incredibly insignificant to most people. In her hands was the program to _Les Miserables, _the first Broadway show she'd ever had the pleasure to see.

She'd pressured her dads for almost a month. They hadn't understood an eleven year olds obsession with the singing and dancing Muggles. None the less, being the wonderful parents they'd always been, a gold class ticket had been taped to the head board above her bed on Christmas morning. Ever since then, the ticket on her bed board had become a family tradition. Every year, the ticket would be there. Just a different date, a different show.

The pages were worn out after years of viewing, dreaming and imagining that one day, _one day _her name would be in a program of the same nature.

Closing her eyes, Rachel imagined the thing she loved the most in the entire universe. Applause. Endless applause. Her head filled with it, her heart very nearly exploding with excitement. Just one more year and she would be free of the people she'd spent the last six or so years of her life with, almost always wishing they'd go _poof _and miraculously disappear.

"Do you mind eef I join?"

Rachel jumped, her eyes snapping open. Strangely, upon hearing a voice, she'd imagined Noah Puckerman on his tattered old broomstick, sweeping by her and beating a bludger into the side of her head. It certainly sounded ridiculous and far-fetched, but she didn't write it off as impossible.

Kurt Hummel, the Beuxbatons transfer, stared down at her with wide eyes. His elfin features looked vulnerable, his body lofty and slightly awkward.

"Sure," Rachel sighed in relief, "I don't mind at all."

Kurt folded his limbs gracefully, sitting at her side. Together, they must have looked utterly ridiculous. Their posture was incredible.

"I never said zankyou for 'elping me before. So zankyou," he said, absentmindedly tugging on his scarf. At first she wondered why he wore it on the weekend, but then remembered that he was new to the school. When she'd been in first year, Rachel had actually worn her school robes on a Saturday. She'd known, of course, that that wasn't compulsory. She'd just been excited to be a part of a magical place like Hogwarts. Who knew she'd end up wanting to leave so badly in six years time.

"My pleasure," she replied, trying not to sound miserable. "How're you liking Hogwarts?"

Kurt paused, thinking deeply. "'ogwarts eez different zan Beuxbatons," he concluded simply.

Rachel nodded. They both looked beyond, out at the lake, not even flinching when a giant tentacle rose above the waters and slapped the surface, causing many ripples to appear.

"_Les Miserables?" _Kurt questioned eventually, gesturing at the program in her lap.

Immediately self-conscious, Rachel moved to hide the glossy booklet and opened her mouth to provide an excuse as to why she was in possession of such a, well, _Muggle _object. But before she could do any of that, he had snatched it out of lap and was looking through it.

"I 'ave seen zis _deux fois par_," he said conversationally.

Rachel knew enough French to know that he meant he'd seen it twice. "You like musical theatre?"

"Oui. My papa takes me to see ze Broadway every summer. He do not like eet too much, but eet is ze 'ought zat counts."

"My dads take me every Christmas," Rachel mused, "I want to be on Broadway, you know. I want to be a star."

Kurt flashed her a small, rare smile. "Zen you will be a star. Just try your 'ardest."

She smiled too, pushing Noah Puckerman and just about every other bad thing from her mind. In her minds eye, she pictured the 'List of Things to Do to Get to Broadway' attached to her bedroom wall back home, among the Slytherin banners and stacks of Barbra Striesand and Patti Lupone memorbilia.

Pulling her hair tighter in its ponytail and risking a small, treacherous glance at the Quidditch pitch, Rachel sighed.

"I will. Trust me."

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><p><strong>AN: **Please review with thoughts. It really puts a smile on my face when I see that I have readers who respond to my work! Thanks for reading.


	6. Another Side Of You, Who Knew?

A/N: A little, early surprise for you all.

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><p>The Muggle Studies classroom was buzzing with anticipation. Rachel Berry was looking down at her desk, once again wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.<p>

"The Puckzilla has arrived!" a booming voice announced, followed by its owners trademark smirk. The Gryffindors at the front of the classroom fist pumped, hooting like mad men.

The celebrations after the Quidditch match had been enormous. Gryffindor, for the first time in years, had beaten Hufflepuff. Puck, naturally, had decided that he was to thank for the victory.

"Puckzilla!" Finn Hudson shouted, standing up and high-fiving the boy with the Mohawk. They enveloped each other in an awkward man hug. Obviously deciding that the exchange had gone on too long, Puck slapped the taller boy heartily on the back and untangled himself, sitting leisurely in his chair.

Rachel let her head fall against the desk.

The Slytherin's glared at the Gryffindor half of class. They'd been the supreme rulers of the Quidditch pitch for a long time now. Perhaps, they were afraid. Puck raised his eyebrows at David Karofsky from across the room.

"You shakin' in your boots, Karofsky? The Puckerone will destroy you."

More hooting.

"I'm gonna make you eat slugs, _Griffabitch," _David sneered.

"Silence!" exclaimed Professor Burbage, entering the room through large double doors. "You will all be quiet of I'll go back to teaching you about the functions of a toaster."

"It makes bread!" Finn shouted gleefully. The Gryffindors responded to his announcement by chanting, "Bread! Bread! Bread!"

"I'm surrounded by animals," Santana Lopez muttered from behind Rachel, "Someone throw them a pork chop."

"Pork chop! Pork chop!"

"Merlin's beard," Rachel mumbled, burying her head in her hands.

"Treasure Trail," Quinn Fabray shouted, referring to Rachel by using one of her many insulting nicknames, "You got a problem?"

"Naw, Quinn," Puck drawled, turning to face the girl with her head buried in her hands, "She's just in a shit mood. She couldn't get any action from the glorious _badassness_ that is, ladies and gentlemen, the_ Puckzilla_."

The Gryffindors guffawed.

"I said silence!" Professor Burbage yelled, irritated. She was obviously annoyed. Her new class were giving her nightmares. Noah Puckerman, she hated to admit it, featured in every one of them. Shirtless. She wasn't _that_ old. She was allowed to fantasise. "I'm handing out the first task to do with your assignment. I'll be sending you all to various places around the castle to work in _silence," _she enunciated the word clearly, "As it appears it's obviously something most of you need to work on."

"Excuse me, Professor?"

She resisted the urge to groan. "Yes, Mr Hudson?"

"Please don't send me to the library. The books kind of, well… the ones with the faces scare me."

"You shouldn't be in the restricted section. There is a sign _clearly_ stating that you shouldn't go beyond that point."

"Oh," Finn mumbled.

"Right," Burbage sighed, "Anyway, here you go."

She began handing out sheets of paper, a strange Muggle invention similar to parchment that she was particularly partial to. She handed out pens as well, which almost all of the students looked at with faces of disbelief.

"What?" she asked, looking about.

"What do we do with these?" asked Mercedes Jones, a larger Gryffindor who often kept to herself, save the occasional diva remark. "Can't we just use our quills?"

"Not today. You'll use these. They take much less time to use because you don't have to keep applying ink. They do it for you. Besides, the point of Muggle Studies is to understand Muggles better. Contrariwise, I'm not sure most of you know that. You most likely thought that this would be a bludge."

The class tried not to look guilty.

Rachel took her pen and paper, sighing as she realised that she'd have to spend the next hour with Noah Puckerman. She really should have thought about that before jinxing him in the Great Hall the previous Saturday. Perhaps, she could have infected herself with the measles. Although Madam Pomfrey probably would have cured them in less than five minutes and sent her back to class as if nothing had ever happened.

"Miss Berry, Mr Puckerman, you'll be working in the Quidditch locker room today."

"Excuse me?" Rachel asked, incredulous. Then, realising that she was speaking to a teacher, she replaced her shocked voice with a grovelling tone. "I mean, surely you must be mistaken. A locker room is hardly a place for learning."

"You can learn about teamwork there, Miss Berry. But yes, I agree, it's not really a place for learning anything else. We didn't have anywhere else to go. I put in my notice late. So, off you go! Just try not to set of a fire alarm or something."

Puck stood up, waiting for Rachel to comply. She didn't.

When Professor Burbage had moved on to the next desk, Rachel crossed her arms across her chest. "Is she actually serious? I can't work around so much… sweat… and _sports _equiptment."

"Merlin, Berry. I know you're putting off being alone with me after Saturday, and I'm not exactly looking forward to it either, but we gotta do it so let's just fucking _go_ already."

He looked at her with expectancy. Reluctantly, without looking at him, she picked up her book bag and followed him out of the classroom.

They walked to the Quidditch pitch without talking. Rachel watched the skies, taking in every little detail as they walked along. She felt incredibly awkward and embarrassed. Puck didn't know his own humility. He acted as if nothing had ever happened.

Finally, unable to stand the silence anymore, Rachel opened her mouth to speak. "So, what's so great about Quidditch? It's just a couple of players on a broom, chasing a ball around."

"Well, that shows what you know. Quidditch is a sure-fire way to bring in the babes, Berry. They see me sweating… no, _glistening_ in my red and gold robes and _bam-" _he pretended to catch something, "I've got their panties right where they belong, and that's in the palm of my hand, in case you didn't know the laws of science."

She highly doubted Puck actually knew the laws of science. "Some girls are attracted to smelly, disgusting perspiration? That's revolting."

"Yeah, you may think so. But you're not a girl. I'm starting to suspect you're a cyborg."

Rachel was confused. "What's a cyborg?"

"You know, like _Terminator _and stuff. Good ol' Arnie?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, come on. Not even-" he puffed out his chest and made a strange, stupid sounding voice, "_I'll be back?"_

Rachel laughed uncomfortably. "Sometimes I forget you're a mudbl-"

Realising what she'd been about to say, Rachel shut her mouth and looked down. Puck cleared his throat.

"Go on, say it. I've heard it plenty of times."

"I'm sorry. I just- it's just… that's how I've heard it since first year. Slytherins use it all the time. I didn't mean to say it. It's not how I feel, at all," she took a deep breath, feeling like Tina Cohen Chang when she searched for the right words, "I'm really sorry, Noah."

He shrugged. "Slytherins are fuckers. I don't expect any better."

"I'm not a… a-"

"What, a fucker?"

"No. I'm not one of those… vulgar words."

Puck laughed, and Rachel started to feel like she was forgiven. "I dunno, Rach. You said some pretty rough stuff on Saturday."

She barely noticed what he'd called her. "I know. I'm sorry. But you shouldn't be such a- well, you're kind of a bully."

"What else would you do if _you _had these pecks?" he flexed his arms to show them off, "Build houses for charity? Or _pummel dweebs_?"

"Kurt didn't do anything to you. He's just a transfer student who likes to keep to himself."

Puck shrugged again. "A badass has gotta do what a badass has gotta do."

"What is that?" Rachel chuckled, "The badass pledge of allegiance?"

Puck smirked because she'd sworn for the second time in three days, which had to be some sort of record. "Nah, we're too badass to have one of those."

They entered the small block of buidings near the pitch. The smell of sweat and grit filled Rachel's nose, which she wrinkled in distaste.

"Can't we go in the girl's room? I'm sure it'd smell a lot nicer."

"This isn't the actual locker room. It's the briefing room. Not like, in spy movies. Just where I give pep talks and other various shit," he flung himself onto a bench, "I'm not gonna get away with taking you into the actual locker rooms. You're not a team member. You aren't allowed."

Rachel took a seat next to him, silently thanking Merlin. "Okay," she sighed and looked down at the sheet of paper in her hand, "Oh."

Puck looked at her, curious. "What?"

She ducked her head. Had Professor Burbage realised what she'd handed them? Rachel guessed she hadn't. Charity Burbage was a kind woman. She wouldn't inflict this level of hurt upon someone, atleast not knowingly.

Noiselessly, Rachel handed the sheet to Puck. He took it, his smirk falling from his face. "Amy's pregnant," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, Noah," Rachel said, taking the sheet back. In any other circumstance, their conversation might have been comical. She watched his crumpled face with cautious eyes. "I'll take it back to Professor Burbage now. She can write something else up."

"Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago."

It wasn't. Beth had only just turned one. She knew because she'd walked in on Quinn Fabray crying, being hugged by Brittany Pierce, the new Head Girl. It appeared that Brittany wasn't very good at comforting. Her fine words of wisdom had been, "Don't be sad, Quinnie. Lord Tubbington turned one almost ten years ago now."

"No, Noah. It's okay," she stood up, making her way to the door, "I'll be five minutes."

Puck stood up too, grabbing her by the arm. Shocked at the warmth radiating from her exposed skin, he dropped it immediately. "Don't worry about it," he drawled, once again lounging gracefully across the bench.

Rachel shifted uneasily. She really had no idea what to do.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Rach. For fucks sake, sit down."

She sat.

"So, what do you think Amy should do about it?"

Rachel paused in thought. She'd never really thought about what it must have been like for Quinn Fabray to give up her motherhood. She hadn't been able to pity her, ever. Even when the secret had made its way around Hogwarts, filling the mind of every single student. In fact, Rachel still couldn't bring herself to pity the blonde. She had no idea what Amy Mann, their fake Muggle subject, should do.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

"She should keep it," Puck mumbled, so quietly that Rachel barely caught his words, "She'll regret it otherwise."

Rachel swallowed. Sure, Noah Puckerman was an asshole most of the time. The rest of the time, he was a borderline nice guy. She wasn't sure which persona she liked better. Asshole Puck, she understood and despised. Nice Guy Noah was unchartered waters.

"It's not due 'til next week," he amended, smirking, "We _could_ just sit here."

Rachel shook her head. "You know I don't… bludge."

"Fine. Wanna make out?"

She glared at him and he burst out laughing. "Very funny."

"I might've been serious," he said, making a mock puppy dog face, "You might've hurt my feelings."

The Slytherin rolled her eyes. "Were you serious?" she asked, knowing the answer before he could utter it. Of course he wasn't.

"Naw," he drawled, "But I could have been. I could've cried myself to sleep tonight."

"I'm sure," she replied sarcastically.

"You remember how I told you I had a list of conquests?"

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He pretended to let his head fall into his hands. "They were all you!" he whined, sobbing giant, fake tears.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Please, _Puckerman_. We can't just do nothing."

"Okay," he sighed, sitting up and staring at her, boredom practically seeping out of his eye sockets. Abruptly, his eyes lit up with excitement. "Can I teach you how to play Quidditch?"

"No, no. Absolutely not."

"Aw, come on. I'm fucking bored!"

"I'm a prefect. There's no way I'm doing that."

"You're so boring. What do you even do on weekends, anyway? Read?"

Rachel imagined the _Les Miserables _program sitting in her lap as she stared at the Black Lake, the mysterious Beauxbatons transfer by her side. "Sometimes," she said thoughtfully, "But most weekends I help Madam Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks."

"Madam Rosmerta; total babe," Puck mused, leaning against the brick wall. "What do you do, waitress or something?"

"No. I- I sing," Rachel stuttered, embarrassed.

Puck looked at her with curiosity. "Like a bar singer?"

"I guess so," she mumbled, "I'm the only underage person allowed. She only lets me because she went to Hogwarts with my dads."

"That's pretty fucking cool, Rach," he said, much to her surprise. She'd expected loud guffaws and endless teasing. Surprisingly, those things never came. Rachel Berry had started to expect the unexpected when faced with Noah Puckerman.

"So, does that mean you can get me alcohol?"

But that certainly didn't mean he was a changed man.

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><p>AN: Thanks for reading. Please review :-) Makes my day!


	7. Shiny New Things

A/N: Here you go, a new chapter! Thankyou so much for everyone has read and reviewed so far, it really means a lot to me.

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><p>Rachel hung up the microphone, thanking the small audience of about ten. They looked impressed by her talent, but incredibly confused as to why she had picked such a strange song. <em>On My Own <em>was her favourite.

Madam Rosmerta handed her a galleon and gave her a short hug. "You keep on at it, Rachel Berry. Don't let anyone change your mind," she murmured in her ear, squeezing her shoulders before returning to the bar.

Rachel pocketed the galleon and smiled. She didn't often get the chance to come down and sing at the Three Broomsticks anymore. Her seventh year at Hogwarts was the hardest yet; her homework had doubled and she barely had enough free time to catch her breath. Obtaining perfect N.E.W.T. scores was on her list and she certainly wasn't going to flunk out.

Just as she was about to push open the rusty wooden door, a hand caught her by the wrist. She jumped, her hand falling from the door.

"Raquel."

She was standing face to face with Jesse St. James.

"I think I may have underestimated your talent."

Rachel frowned. She didn't know what to think. Last time she'd spoken to Jesse, he'd insulted her looks.

"You looked great up there."

But then again, he _was _her one true love. She couldn't hold that against him. Excitement catching in her throat, she merely nodded and showed him a dazzling smile.

"_Les Miserables, _right?"

She nodded again.

Jesse pushed his hand through his curly hair, smirking slyly. "Do you want to get a drink? I'm of age. I'll just order two Firewhiskys and we can go for a walk?"

Rachel could hardly believe her ears. "S-sure."

He grinned and headed off to the bar, ordering from Madam Rosmerta, who looked over at Rachel as if she disapproved of her company. Rachel didn't care. She was estatic.

Jesse returned, carrying two bottles of Blishen's Firewhisky in his hands. He gestured for Rachel to open the door and together they made their way out of the pub and into the cold winter air. Once outside, Jesse handed Rachel one of the bottles and opened his own.

"Do you want to go somewhere quiet?"

Rachel unscrewed her own bottle and merely nodded again, taking a large sip to dull her nerves. Jesse also took a hearty swig and began to lead her up the Hogsmeade path.

They reached the end of the town, and Rachel was beginning to feel nervous. "Where are we going?" she asked, trying not to shiver. She took another sip of Firewhisky, shuddering as the heat glided down her throat. It burnt in a good way.

"The Shrieking Shack. Have you ever seen it before?"

She shook her head and replied that she hadn't. "I don't really go past Hogsmeade... You know, because we aren't meant to."

"Oh, that's right. You're a prefect," Jesse paused, his feet sinking slightly into the snow, "We can go back if you want…" He trailed off, looking at her with mischievous eyes. She watched him carefully, admiring the way his simple black sweater hugged his toned figure.

"No," she laughed, "I want to go."

He grinned. "Great. Follow me, Richelle."

She did so without mentioning the fact that he still didn't know her name.

It wasn't long until they reached a barb-wire fence, surrounded by a small forest of pine trees. In the distance was the Shrieking Shack; a small, ragged building. The shack was, according to local legend, the most haunted building in Great Britain. When she had had trouble sleeping in the Slytherin dungeons at night, Rachel had always told herself that she didn't believe in ghosts. She tried to think back to those times as she stood at the fence, looking over at the shutters flapping wildly in the gusts of icy wind.

"Mesmerising, isn't it?"

Rachel didn't really think it was, but it was _Jesse St. James_ so, naturally, she had no other choice but to agree. Slowly, they sat down on the snow. Rachel shivered in her jeans and sweater and Jesse gestured for her to cuddle up to him.

He wrapped his arms around her and she tentatively rest her head on his chest. They spoke about school and N.E.W.T's and music. Rachel could hardly believe her luck.

Within half an hour, almost every drop of the Firewhisky was gone. Rachel began to feel a bit silly. She was laughing too loudly and giggling when Jesse so much as coughed. Together, they started to talk about what they would do after Hogwarts. Jesse, of course, also wanted to pursue musical theatre. But not Broadway. Jesse would fulfil his dreams in the wizarding world. When she mused about New York, he chuckled drunkenly and said, "Raquel Cherry, you have incredibly stupid ambitions for a witch!"

In the absence of alcohol, Rachel may have been offended, but the whisky, which was very strong, made her feel like he had given her a compliment. She giggled.

Rachel eventually felt Jesse's hand push her hair out of her eyes. Transfixed, she stared into his eyes as his fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw. He licked his lips and she felt butterflies in her stomach as his lips came to rest on hers.

She was nervous, unsure of what to do next. She'd never admitted it to anyone, but she had never been kissed before.

Jesse hands roamed her body as his lips caressed hers. She was utterly under his spell. She couldn't believe that _Jesse St. James_ was her first kiss. It was so romantic, so-

Wait.

Rachel paused as she felt his tongue shoved into her mouth. He moaned, his hands making friction as they rubbed against her arms. She let him gently push her onto the snow, his hand softly tugging at her hair. Rachel didn't do anything. She had no idea what to do. Her idea of a first kiss had been much simpler. A gentle peck followed by, perhaps, a musical number. Well, maybe not music. But she hadn't expected to have Jesse basically _thrust_ his tongue in without permission. Still, she didn't stop him.

Eventually, he released her mouth and began to kiss the skin just under her ear. He was a little too drunk from one bottle of Firewhisky. She realised he must have been drinking before he'd met her in the pub. She was beginning to wonder why she was letting a boy have his way with her in the middle of a forest, in front of the most haunted building in Britain.

"Ricky," Jesse whispered, biting her neck. She tried to quietly push him away, but he didn't notice and continued to assault her neck. She tried to ask him to stop, but his lips covered hers once more. His tongue massaged hers, and she moaned involuntarily.

There was movement in the trees nearby. Rachel listened as a female giggled, followed by the low chuckle of a male. Distracted, she pulled away from Jesse, who just pulled her back to him and caressed her neck. She shuddered, forgetting about the sounds she'd heard earlier and trying to engage herself in the moment. Feeling brave, she surprised Jesse by grabbing his face and kissing him. She revelled in the feel of his lips, slightly chapped but still remarkably soft. She wondered if he used lip product. After all, he was a fellow diva. She was soon distracted by the feel of his hands travelling over body. She gasped, and not happily either, as his hand gently kneaded her breast.

Finally, convinced that things had gone on too long, she tried to shove him away. He was too heavy though. He must have thought her movements were meant to encourage him.

When he released her lips again, Rachel tried to catch her breath and struggle free. Frustrated, she squirmed. "Jesse!" she exclaimed, "Stop. Get off of me."

He was too lost in the moment. Too drunk. Too arrogant. Rachel hit him on the chest and he growled.

"I said get off!"

"_Flipendo!" _

Rachel blinked as she saw a flash of bright orange light. Jesse was knocked back. He fell on his back in the snow a few metres away, his face almost comical as he stared, shocked, up at the winter sky.

Rachel turned to see Noah Puckerman standing not ten metres away, anger clearly etched on his face. Behind him was Santana Lopez, her own clothes dishevelled and her hair messy. She looked nothing but amused. Rachel suddenly realised who had been in the trees.

"Well, well, well… if it isn't little Yentl and Marvellous Marvin. I see you guys have finally got some action," Santana drawled. She eyed the empty bottles of Firewhisky by the fence with curiosity.

"Shut up, San," Puck snapped, walking forwards. Rachel hastily straightened out her own clothing and stood up, wobbling a little as she tried to remain balanced. Maybe she was more intoxicated than she'd at first thought.

Puck ignored her, instead stomping over to Jesse and pulling him up by the collar of his sweater. "You fucking prick, St. James."

Jesse laughed, still drunk. "I'm sorry, Puckerone. I didn't mean to drool all over your property."

Puck pushed him to the ground again with a loud _thump. _Jesse whimpered. He didn't appear to be hurt though, because before long he was laughing again. Puck growled, "That's not cool, man. You don't get a girl like Berry drunk then try and take advantage. She-she's not like that," he looked down at the ground, "I, better than most people, know what happens when you get a nice, _smashed _girl to-"

He broke off, shaking his head.

Rachel crossed her arms self-consciously. Santana gave her a once over, apparently disappointed that she was still completely clothed. "Calm down, Puckerone. It's not like he _defiled _her."

Puck merely shook his head again. "No. Just- he did the wrong thing."

He shoved his wand back into the pocket of his pants and kicked Jesse's shoe. "Hey, that's traditional Italian leather!" was the response he got in return.

"Do I look like I care, dick?" Puck scoffed as he walked back towards Rachel. "San, you go home."

Santana scowled. "I thought we were going to Madam Puddifoot's Tea-"

"Go, San."

She stared angrily at the boy with the Mohawk before quickly straightening up her dishevelled clothing and trudging through the snow back in the direction of Hogsmeade.

When she was gone, Puck took Rachel roughly by the arm and started to pull her in the same direction. She giggled, which only aggravated him further. "Merlin, Berry. What did you drink?"

"Blishen's quality Firewhisky, otherwise known as the King of Whiskies."

Puck groaned. "You're telling me that you actually got drunk off of that?"

"I'm not drunk," she protested, stumbling a little, "Really, I'm not."

The Gryffindor shook his head and he helped her through the snow. "Just you wait until tomorrow when everything sinks in."

"We didn't do anything!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms out, "Besides, I'm pretty sure you and _San _were doing more than _kissing_!"

Puck resisted the urge to laugh. Of course he and Santana had been doing more than kissing. "You heard us?"

"Of course," she replied sternly, "She's a whore."

Puck didn't defend the Latina. He merely chuckled as Rachel suddenly tried to hug him. He gently pushed her away, making sure she didn't fall down. "You really can't handle alcohol, Rach."

"Take me home," she sighed, falling against him.

Puck had heard that line from drunken women many times before, but, needless to say, in a completely different context. He steadied Rachel and dragged her through the main street. Out of the blue, she decided she wanted candy. He let her drag him inside Honeydukes and watched as she purchased a galleon worth of splendid sugar. Naturally, he was made to carry all of it.

Eventually, they made it to the Hogwarts gates, where Puck was faced with a very serious dilemma. He couldn't bring Rachel Berry, a seventh year prefect, into the school _drunk. _What that would look like for him, let alone _her, _was something he just didn't want to think about.

"Come on," he muttered, pulling her towards the Quidditch pitch, "You can't go back in the castle yet. You gotta wait here 'till you sober up."

Hiding in the Quidditch supplies room whilst drunk was a tradition among the more popular students. Not many knew about it, only the select few who were courageous enough to put their fear of McGonagall behind them. The teachers, in Puck's opinion, had _no fucking clue _about it.

He pushed open the door and forced Rachel to stay back as about ten brooms clattered to the ground. He picked them up and pushed crates of Quaffles, Bludgers and Snitches out of the way before finding a blue gym mat for her to sit on.

"Noah?"

He sighed. No one called him that but his mother. "Yeah?"

"Um, won't they expect me at dinner?"

"I'll come back at seven and make sure you come back to the Hall with me. Now, get in here before anybody sees you."

Rachel took his warning literally, basically running inside and trying to hug him again. "Thankyou, Noah. People, including me, usually say you're an asshole. But you're actually a pretty cool dude!" she exclaimed, her face pressed against his chest. He rolled his eyes. Sober Rachel would have been appalled at Drunk Rachel's use of language.

A month ago, he would have pushed her off of him with disgust and annoyance. But things were different now. He knew she wasn't as bad as everyone made her out to be. He hugged her back and made sure she was comfortable enough to survive the next few hours alone. From his pockets he pulled the heap of lollies, which he placed next to the smiling drunk girl.

"'Sif you got drunk from _one _whisky," he sighed, shaking his head. She really was naïve. He knew more about alcohol at age five, pretty much. Still, his father hadn't been much of a role model. He turned and made his way through the treacheous pile of brooms and other various equipment.

Gently, he shut the door behind him.

Slightly before seven o'clock he made his way back down to the storage room, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. He wondered how Rachel was faring. She was probably extremely confused and disoriented.

But when he opened the door again, he looked down at Rachel Berry, her cheeks smeared with chocolate, snoring softly as she slept. As he watched her, a slightly disgusted yet slightly fond expression on his face, she mumbled, "_I feel pretty, oh so pretty. I feel pretty and witty and gay…"_

And he burst out laughing as she snorted.

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><p>AN: Haha! Had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Can't wait to further develop Puckleberry. Please review :)


	8. The Quick Fox, Hey, I'm French

A/N: Here's another early chapter because I just cannot sleep! Enjoy :-)

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><p>Rachel's eyes fluttered open, her head throbbing painfully. She sat up and was overwhelmed by the spinning feeling that resided in her head. Groaning, she lifted her hand to her eyes and tried to look around. The light was much too bright.<p>

Suddenly, the details of the previous day came rushing back to her. Never before in her life had Rachel had a drop of alcohol. Her fathers would have beyond disappointed in her if they'd ever found out. Besides, she'd never really been tempted. Jesse St. James brought out a side in her that she'd rather forget.

Jesse. Rachel sat back and shut her eyes. Memories of Jesse's lips and body plagued her. She was shocked. Feeling violated and used, she slowly stood and observed the room around her.

She was in a small room, surrounded by Quidditch equipment. Confused, she tried to find a door. She stumbled over a broom, tripping and sending ten or so others rattling to the ground. _Where was she?_

Looking around, she noticed the set of banners hanging on the wall. Green and silver, yellow and brown, blue and bronze, red and gold. Serpent, badger, eagle and lion. She was definitely at Hogwarts. The realisation comforted her. Her head throbbing uncomfortably, she moved over to a small window at the back of the room. There, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Brown smudges lined her lips. Disgusted and embarrassed, she quickly wiped them off and tried to straighten her wild brown hair. It was no use. She needed to get to the common rooms and shower.

As she once again began her search for the way out, this time avoiding knocking over any stray broomsticks, she spied the Honeydukes wrappers on the gym mat. Perplexed, she quickly counted them. It got to the point that she didn't want to know how many _more _sweets she'd eaten. Finally, she successfully found her way out of the crowded building.

The light almost blinded her. After a second of allowing her eyes to better adjust to the morning sunlight, she stepped out onto the green, freshly-mown lawns of the Quidditch pitch. She shut the storage room door behind her.

Lifting her hand to shield her eyes, she glanced over at the three hoops. There, huddled together, were a group of about eight or nine Gryffindors dressed in their team robes. She swallowed as her eyes came to rest on the captain, complete with his signature Mohawk and cheeky smirk.

Her stomach dropped as the memories came into sharper focus. Not only had Jesse forced himself onto her, but she had _allowed _it. Liked it even. Puck had practically crawled out of the nearby trees, Santana Lopez in tow, to try and stop her from sacrificing herself to a certain self-obsessed curly-headed, grin-laden div_o_.

And she was pretty sure she'd acted clingy the whole way back to Hogwarts.

Ducking her head in shame, she wished she were invisible. Now she was going to have to walk back into the castle, in clear view of not only the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but everyone who was awake before nine o'clock on a Sunday morning. _Wasn't Puck meant to have woken her up before dinner last night?_ She questioned.

"Man Hands!"

Rachel didn't look up when she heard the icy cool tone of Gryffindor Keeper, Quinn Fabray. She kept walking; looking at the grass as her shoes trudged across it, dew squelching underfoot.

"I hear you got a little tipsy last night!"

She shook her head. She should have known Puck would laugh at her the next morning, sitting at breakfast with his stupid friends and his stupid grin. She tried not to listen to further cat-calls as she hastily sped on, but she couldn't help but overhear Puck's warning to his teammates. He said that if they 'didn't get their fucking heads in the game, he'd put their heads somewhere else less pleasant.'

Quinn replied with a simple, "What on your-"

Rachel blocked her ears then. She didn't want to hear _anything_ about Noah Puckerman's appendage. Or, as he personally liked to call it, the Pucky Puck.

As she witnessed the team mount their brooms and begin their warm-ups out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't help but notice that Noah Puckerman lagged behind, looking slightly dazed and disoriented compared to the others. Something was definitely up. Although, he made no attempt to try and catch up with her.

Arriving at the castle, Rachel managed to stay out of the sight of anyone she knew. Sure, the occasional first, second or third year would catch an eyeful of her dirty, snow-ridden appearance and try to hide their laughter, but she didn't care. In her opinion; she'd be famous long before they were out of diapers.

Once inside the dungeons, Rachel gathered her things and headed to the Prefects bathroom on the fifth floor. Locking the door behind her, she took a fluffy white towel into the large bath and turned the taps on, waiting for the water to heat up and start to bubble.

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><p>Twenty minutes later, Rachel sat down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. She'd barely had enough time to butter her toast and pour herself some Pumpkin Juice before Blaine Anderson had sidled up to her started gossiping like an old witch.<p>

"Jesse St. James just happens to be spreading rumours that you hooked up with him in front of the Shrieking Shack. He think it's bloody hilarious that he persuaded-" Blaine paused, slipping onto the bench beside her, "Excuse my language, Rach- but _Fridget_ Berry to… well, you probably know better than I do."

Rachel sighed and took a bite of her toast.

"So, are you going to tell me he's a lying piece of shit?"

She put down her cup, swilling Pumpkin juice in her mouth as a stalling method. Finally, she had to swallow. "No. But... I-I'm not proud of what I did, Blaine-"

The Hufflepuff groaned and let his head fall onto the table. After a few seconds of silence, he sat up once more and sent her a pity-filled look. "I don't care what you did, Rach. Who'd you choose to do it with, huh? Jesse St. Sucks-"

Rachel coughed loudly over the words, _'his own asshole'._

Blaine ignored her. "He's a chauvinistic pig. I can't believe you."

Previously, she probably would have tried to defend Jesse. She understood now that he wasn't everything she'd thought him up to be. Hell, he didn't even know her name. _Raquel Cherry? Really?_ But, Rachel amended, deep down she knew she had let him kiss her. She had let him touch her. And now she had to deal with the aftermath.

"I know," she murmured, lifting her toast to her mouth, "I just want to forget about it. I've got a meeting with the first years this afternoon, and I really ought to concentrate on my Potions assignment-"

"Can you just pause for one second, please?"

She turned and looked at her _sort of _best friend. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

"I'm pretty annoyed at you for doing what you did, but I heard about another detail. Something that makes it a little better. Something that makes it worth it, I guess."

Rachel looked at him, her confusion plain on her face. "Sorry?"

"Noah Puckerman apparently leaped out of the bushes, screaming like a mad man, ready to defend your virtue," he smirked, taking her cup and drinking from it without her permission. It was something he knew she detested on account of the fact that sharing bacteria could possibly damage her vocal chords.

Rachel didn't laugh. "No, actually. He came out of the trees and I'm fairly certain he was just making sure I wasn't molested. Also, I'm sure he didn't scream anything, let alone like a mad man."

Blaine smirked, putting down her cup. She hadn't even noticed. Now, where was the fun in that?

"Yeah, whatever, Rachel 'Fun Killer' Berry."

She smiled a little, the guilt she felt showing through her façade. "Besides, Noah isn't as-" she stopped, looking for the right word, "_badass _as he thinks he is. No matter how many of us at this school have forgotten, he's still a father to a little girl out there. He's more mature than he lets on."

Blaine chuckled. "And he's pretty fucking hot, Rach."

She blushed. Blaine's potty mouth wasn't the only element that embarrassed her in that statement. "Anyway, I don't know if you know yet, but I met Kurt Hummel the other day."

Blaine blushed too, but he looked away before Rachel could tease him for it. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes. Slightly strange, but a nice person, I'd like to think."

The Hufflepuff shrugged. "He's a lot like you. Just… _cuter."_

Rachel wasn't offended. When they'd first met, she'd been convinced that Blaine was totally, head-over-heels in love with her. Then she'd spied him watching Finn Hudson with goo-goo eyes one night at dinner and realised that he played for a team that wasn't her own. Of course, six years later Blaine was _completely _over the Frankenteen and Rachel, no matter how convenient and wonderful it would probably be, knew that no matter how hard she tried to turn him straight, she and Blaine would never get married and have lots of small Hobbit-like children.

"He's gay too, Blaine. If that's what you're wondering."

"No, no," he replied, reaching over and trying to grab a slice of toast from Rachel's plate. She swatted his hand away and he frowned, "I know that he's definitely _not_ a heterosexual male. It's just- well, being gay doesn't mean you like every boy you meet, you know? He's just the same as any other person. I might like him and he could be utterly _repulsed_ by my presence."

Rachel highly doubted that anyone could be repulsed by Blaine. Girls were still extremely attracted to his preppy charm and looks. It didn't matter how many times he stressed that he was gay, he would always receive invitations to join a particular female student at Hogsmeade that weekend. He always accepted, of course. Blaine didn't like to turn down anyone. He just made it clear that they would never be anything more than friends and constantly – shamelessly, actually - pointed out how _damn fine _one of the young male employees at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop was.

It was true. Madam Puddifoot's nephew was one sexy bastard. And, according to local gossip, an _actual_ bastard. Oh well, it's not like anyone cared about that sort of thing anymore. Someone in Hogsmeade had recently made the _Daily Prophet_ for legally wedding his cat. These days, to create scandal among the wizarding community, you definitely had to try your damndest and be willing to marry something less compliant than a feline. A dragon, perhaps, would suffice.

"You should ask him out," she supplied helpfully. Blaine's face lit up, showing that he'd only been waiting for a small compliment to set the ball rolling. He preened himself then and there, wiping juice from the corner of his mouth.

"You know what? I think I might."

Rachel watched, amused, as he plucked up the courage to march over to the Ravenclaw table. Kurt Hummel was eating a French breakfast dish and reading a copy of _Vogue_ - the French publication, of course. Blaine gently tapped him on the shoulder and bent down to whisper something in his ear. Rachel observed as the transfer's eyes almost bulged out his head.

"Ze quick fox jumped over ze lazy dog!" He exclaimed.

The whole Hall turned to look at the two boys, confused as to why such a statement had been yelled so loudly. Blaine looked incredibly nervous, and Kurt blushed, turning pink from head to toe. His hand was clasped over his mouth. Slowly, he removed it.

"I am so sorry, Blaine! Zat is ze first saying I learnt when I come 'ere to 'Ogwarts… I panicked," Kurt looked down at his Gucci boots, "I vould love to go vith you to ze 'Ogsmeade Village."

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><p>AN: I know that it's probably not the best written chapter. I'm really tired now, actually. Yawn. I think it's bed time for me! Please review :)


	9. Puckerman Presents Problems

A/N: Hey guys, thanks for your reviews! Heres a quick update, rather short though. If you have time, maybe you can check out my profile and give it a quick glance. I've opened a FictionPress account where I'll be posting some content from the novel I'm currently writing. All of the details are there! Also, I may be putting up a poll regarding this story soon. Well, anyway, I'll let you go. Enjoy!

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><p>It was nearing November, and Professor Burbage had fallen ill with a rather strange case of the hiccups. They'd been induced by a prank by one of the fifth years, and Madam Pomfrey, along with Professor Slughorn and his many potions, had been stumped as to how they could cure it. As she was unable to speak for a minute without falling into a harsh set of stomach spasms and strange noises, Hogwarts had no choice but to file for a substitute teacher.<p>

"Professor William Schuester," the young, handsome wizard wrote on the blackboard, "But you can just call me Professor Schue."

Rachel had been looking for a new leading man for almost two weeks, and the new substitute Muggle Studies teacher had come at exactly the right time. The Jesse incident had long since become old news, but she still heard the occasional whisper that Noah Puckerman had had this _crazed_ look in his eyes, his muscles bulging through his sweater, as he'd jinxed Jesse St. James not once, not twice, but _seven _times.

She sat and stared at Schuester. Admired the way his hair was so perfectly styled… his vests so… _rugged._

"Fucking hell, Rach, really?"

Rachel tore her eyes away from the new Professor long enough to glare at the Gryffindor in front of her. "Pardon?"

"You're crushin' on the Schueman," Puck smirked, amused, "Sorry, babe, but I'm pretty sure the dude's married."

She stared at him, trying extremely hard to appear appalled. "Don't call me babe. And I am not _crushing _on a _professor_."

He just rolled his eyes and turned around to face the front of the classroom again.

"Alright," Schuester began enthusiastically, "So, when I got here I was told about a seriously _cool_ assignment that you guys are doing. The _Life of a Muggle, _am I right?"

The class nodded glumly.

"That's awesome," he grinned, straightening his vest, "but, unfortunately, I don't understand too much about it. Would somebody care to explain?"

No body answered him.

"What about you, Mr Hudson?"

William Schuester obviously had a lot to learn. The teaching staff at Hogwarts had learnt six long years ago that under no circumstance did you _ever _volunteer Finn Hudson to speak. He volunteered himself enough.

Finn smiled, his eyes alight. He was just about to lurch into a long, confusing speech about something completely different than the topic he'd been asked about when he was interrupted by his girlfriend, Quinn.

"Please, Professor Schue. You don't wanna do that," she said, effectively covering Finn's mouth with her hand, "It won't get us anywhere. Trust me."

The substitute looked incredibly confused as he watched Finn try to communicate around Quinn's hand. "Oh, okay. Uh…" he paused, looking through the list of students on Professor Burbage's desk, "Miss Berry?"

Quinn groaned, dropping her hand. Finn looked grateful to be able to breath again. "Merlin. You've just gone from one end of the scale to the other," the Keeper said cooly.

"I'll gladly explain," Rachel smiled, sending the blonde Gryffindor a death glare, "Professor Burbage set us this assignment to help build teamwork. We were assigned a fake Muggle teenager and given her personal details and history so that we could better understand Muggle behaviour. Every two weeks, we are given a new circumstance and have to decide what our Muggle should choose to do."

Schuester grinned. "Thankyou, Miss Berry. So, could you tell us about your Muggle?"

Rachel launched into an explanation, and she swore she heard Puck pretending to snore. She sent him a death glare only slightly less intimidating than the one she'd sent the mother of his child.

"And who is your partner?"

"He would be the buffoon in front me, Professor."

Schuester actually laughed, which made Rachel blush. "Of course. Mr Puckerman, where do you stand?"

"Usually on the ground," Puck drawled, making the class snigger.

The man in the vest sighed. "I mean, on which side to you stand? Will your Muggle keep or terminate her baby?"

"Keep," he said automatically, trying not to look at Quinn, "Why would she do anything different?"

Schuester shrugged, "From what I hear, Amy has an ambition to become a Lawyer. That means Law school. Can she raise a child whilst keeping up with the demands of such an institution?"

Puck didn't understand half of what he had said. "Probably not, sir. But it's a baby… not a dog. There's not really any choice, in my opinion."

"Interesting," the Professor said, "Miss Berry?"

"I- I have to agree with Noah."

The rest of the lesson progressed very much the same. Schuester spent almost the entire time quizzing students on their projects. The rest of the time he spent making sure his hairstyle was still in optimal condition.

When the bell went, Puck took off. Rachel stared after him, her books clutched to her chest, wondering what exactly went on in his strange male mind.

Potions went by in a blur. Blaine gushed about his date with Kurt in Hogsmeade, which had gone _fucking amazingly _in his opinion, for the whole hour. Rachel was only half-listening. She was thinking about Puck and Quinn and their baby. She was intrigued by the strange dynamic between the three of them. Neither of the parents saw their daughter, but Puck didn't seem to like that. Quinn, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine to forget about those dark nine months.

After her last lesson that day, Rachel found herself walking out to the Quidditch pitch. Sure enough, there he was, high in the air on his broomstick. He looked like he was thinking hard as he stared out into the empty air around him.

"Noah!" Rachel yelled, waving her arms to try and get his attention. He didn't hear her at first. She called again, and he afforded her a quick glance.

"Go away, Berry!" she got in return, "I'm not in the mood right now!"

Rachel refused to leave. "No! If you want to get technical, you shouldn't be out here right now! Thursday afternoons are reserved for the Ravenclaw team!"

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" he yelled, giving her a pointed look.

"I know you don't, but I'll have to issue you another detention if you don't come down! You know what that means, Noah!"

"Oh, do I?"

"Yes! It means no going home for Christmas!"

Reluctantly, he stared down at her. "Sometimes I really hate you, Rach!" Nevertheless, he landed beside her within a minute. "What?" he spat.

She was overwhelmed by the look on his face. His eyes were red, but no matter how hard she tried, she could hardly believe that _Noah Puckerman_ had been _crying. _

"Are you alright?"

"Well, obviously not, Rach," he hissed, "I mean, are you fucking stupid or what?"

She flinched at the volume of his voice. "No. I'm not stupid. I'm just trying to be compassionate."

He held his broom tightly, his knuckles white. He looked pained. "I know. I'm sorry. It's just – not a good time, alright?"

She nodded. "I understand, Noah. I think I can help too."

"Oh, really?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes," she murmured, "Why don't you come get a drink? I know that when I'm sad my dads bring me water."

Puck scoffed. "I think I'll pass."

"You can still be a part of your daughter's life, Noah," Rachel whispered, looking down.

He looked away. "How did you know it was about Beth?"

"I've never seen you upset about anything else."

"Yeah," he muttered, "I don't see how or why I should bother, though. Quinn doesn't want either of us to get involved in her life. But – I… I don't want to be like my dad."

Rachel didn't say anything. She watched as he struggled to find the right words, his face practically split with torment. "He left us. My dad. I didn't see him again."

Those words were enough. She didn't ask for more, and he didn't give any more either. He looked at her, his hazel eyes dull and lifeless. She hated that. His eyes were usually so alight with mischief that it physically caused her pain to see him like that. "I'm sorry," she said, unable to think to say anything else.

"It's not your fault," he replied, chucking his broom under his arm, "It's mine. Like everything else. I'll see you 'round, Rach."

He left, walking towards the castle, leaving Rachel staring after him, unsure of what to do next.

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><p>Rachel signed up to spend Christmas at Hogwarts. She'd never done it before, instead always opting to return home for the short holiday. But she wanted to experience a Hogwarts Christmas before she lost the chance to forever.<p>

It turned out that Puck had received that last detrimental detention slip from Professor McGonagall. She'd caught him persuading first years to eat Puking Pastels on the last day of term, and he had paid the price of not being able to return home for the holidays. He'd unpacked his bags gloomily, watching silently as everyone else in the Gryffindor Boys Dormitory had excitedly made their way out of the common room and down to the courtyard. Of course, he hadn't shown his sadness to anyone. He was still a badass.

Rachel enjoyed the week leading up to Christmas. At first, she had planned to take advantage of the free Girls Dormitory and rehearse her audition for Julliard. Sure, she could easily use a Confundus Charm on the director there, but she was an honest witch. She wouldn't do that. Well, she told herself that now. Things would be different if she wasn't accepted.

However, as the first few days passed by, Rachel noticed Puck on the Quidditch Pitch, day in and day out, practicing. He did it every day without fail, and she wondered if he was still feeling guilty about Beth. So, on the third day of the holidays, Rachel gathered a few of her favourite books and made her way to the pitch. She sat in the stands and watched him, occasionally looking up from the printed pages and showing him a wide, encouraging smile. He looked at her as if she were insane, but rather fondly if she did say so herself.

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><p>AN: Thanks for reading, please review! :)


	10. Kisses

A/N: Hey guys! I _know _it's been ages but I've been extremely busy with school, work, etc as of late! Please forgive me :-) Anyway, here you go!

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><p>Rachel didn't like to admit it, but Noah Puckerman certainly was easy on the eyes. She'd decided this a long time ago, so she didn't really understand her aversion to the truth.<p>

They were walking through Hogsmeade in search of a bookstore because Rachel had persisted that they _needed_ to catch up on their assignment before school returned - which happened in a weeks time.

"I really don't see the point in this," Puck drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets and pouting at the floor like a grumpy toddler, "Its Muggle studies. Why can't we just make shit up?"

Rachel shook her head, her long ponytail swishing from side to side. "If Amy's going to raise that baby whilst in Law school, we're going to need hard facts."

He groaned. "Amy isn't real."

She laughed as she looked up and back at him. He shrugged, giving her a look of indifference. "Of course she isn't real. But she's our assignment. She's going to get an A for life, and we're going to get one for our grade!"

They entered a nearby bookstore. An old wizard stood behind the counter, dozing off. Rachel giggled at him. Puck raised his eyebrows. Slowly, they searched through the 'Muggle' section of the store. Of course, it wasn't filled with books that Muggles would actually read. The books were extremely childish, written for young witches and wizards who were learning about the strange people.

Rachel sifted through the books, slowly becoming more and more agitated. This was the third – and final – bookstore in Hogsmeade. And nothing had been of use to them.

"You could always ask Madam Pince if there's anything in the library," Puck offered.

She shook her head as she pushed the last book back onto the shelf. "No. I already did that this morning."

They left the shop, unsure of where to go next. "Do you want to go back to school yet?" Rachel asked, wondering if he hated being seen in public with her. He probably did.

"Nah, we should hang around a bit," he said, looking at the signs of the shops nearby. Rachel nearly smiled. But she'd stopped herself just in time.

Or so she thought.

"What you looking so fucking goofy for?"

"Nothing," she said quickly.

Puck let it go. He was tired and he'd spent a good hour looking in book stores. He didn't want to argue with anybody, even jokingly with a friend. "Wanna go to Honeydukes?"

Rachel's stomach crawled. "I don't know if I should, after what happened last time," she whispered, remembering waking up with chocolate all over her face.

"Aw, come on. It's been like… two months since then. You can eat something bad for you; it's not going to affect anything."

She shrugged. "Alright, but I probably won't buy anything."

Honeydukes rose up out of the distance. They made their way through its lavish doors and were welcomed with the smell of candy. "Food, glorious food," Puck muttered, staring at its sheer beauty, "The Puckzilla approves."

They exited after ten minutes. Rachel had a Chocolate Frog in hand, and Puck a Blood-flavoured Lollipop. She'd been disgusted and confused as to why he'd chosen such a thing. "Just wanted to try it, babe," he'd smirked.

Puck un-wrapped the stupid candy and placed it in his mouth, only to quickly spit it out into the snow. He spluttered and Rachel chuckled. "Don't laugh at me!" He exclaimed, and she laughed again, "That was disgusting. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy!"

Rachel smiled, "And who is your worst enemy?"

Puck paused in thought, his face still vaguely sour-looking. "Karofsky," he finally decided. Rachel scoffed. She'd never seen them bother one another too badly.

"David? He's harmless," she said before biting into her chocolate frog, "And a Prefect. He can't do anything to anyone without being revoked of his badge."

"I ain't _scared _o' him, Rach," Puck rolled his eyes, spitting again. Rachel tried to hide her disgust. "He's just Slytherin Quidditch captain. It makes sense to hate him."

"Oh, so you feel inferior?"

"No!" He spat, laughing, "Gryffindor are gonna win this year, just you watch."

Rachel watched him laugh. He was handsome, but not as refined as Jesse. He was more… _masculine._ Her eyes roamed his face as she asked her next question, "So… is that what you're doing? Sitting on your broom at the pitch everyday?"

He looked down. "What do you mean?"

"You know I watch… you even smile at me sometimes. Are you making game plans?"

Slowly, he nodded, "Something like that."

"Sometimes I like to make game plans," she admitted, grinning.

"Oh, yeah? Of what?"

"Well, when I go to Broadway-"

She paused, hoping that he hadn't caught on. She didn't need another wizard telling her that she had _stupid ambitions. _She'd keep her 'stupid' dreams to herself if it meant that she didn't have to defend them constantly.

"Yeah?" Puck prompted, apparently un-fazed by her words.

"You- you might think I'm silly," she murmured, swallowing her nerves, "But I want to go to New York to go to Muggle college. I want to be a Broadway actress."

"That's cool; I guess," he replied, "My uncle lives there. He's got a job at a theatre kinda thing."

She instantly brightened. "What does he do?"

"He does the lights and effects," he said carelessly before he looked down at her, "So, like Broadway musicals or plays?"

"Musicals," she sighed dreamily, "As soon as I finish college I'll begin my career. First, something small. Then, perhaps, Sarah in _Guys and Dolls._ Her range is far easier for me that Miss Adelaide's. Then, maybe Maria from _West Side Story... _Elphaba in _Wicked. _Oh, and of course I couldn't forget Eponine-"

"Yeah, not that I don't care, Rach… but I have no idea what you're talking about," he chuckled.

Rachel blushed. "No, of course not. Sorry."

"Hey," he said quietly, "Don't be sorry. I think it's cool that you have so much… passion, I guess."

She looked down and smiled. "Thankyou, Noah."

"'s okay."

They walked through town in silence. Rachel risked a glance at Puck, but he didn't catch it. He walked with a growing smirk on his face.

"So, uh, Rach?"

She looked up, her eyes bright. "Yes?"

"You know how the Graduate Ball is coming up…"

Rachel's heart hammered in her chest. _Was he about to ask her out?_ She didn't know what she would say if he did. He'd been rude to her almost all of their lives. But now… he was _different._

"What do you think I should spike the pumpkin juice with?"

"Oh," she whispered, deflated. Then she realised what he'd said. "If you so much as put a drop of _anything _in that punch I'll have to report you."

He laughed. "Come on! Half of us are of legal age."

"You aren't," she chided, "I'm not... Blaine isn't! There are plenty of us who aren't old enough. Besides… think of what I was like last time I was intoxicated."

Puck scoffed, "Annoying and clingy?"

"I was not!" she replied, her mouth wide open with shock, "I was just… confused."

"You're what I like to call a clingy drunk, Rach."

"I didn't try anything on you, did I?" she asked, appalled and embarrassed.

"Naw," he shrugged, "You tried to hug me but that's about it."

"Good."

"Why? Were you worried you tried to make out with me or something?" He laughed, "It wouldn't have given you herpes, babe."

She crossed her arms, feeling uneasy. "I know that."

"Well, then why don't we ever do it?"

"Because I'm not one of your… _floosies_," she spat, "I have self-respect."

"I know," Puck said sarcastically, "You're a prude."

"Just because Jesse was my first kiss-"

"Wait? That asshole was your first kiss?" he demanded, stopping her in her tracks by grabbing her arm. His hand was incredibly warm. Rachel felt like she'd been zapped. Electric currents travelled between them, and for a moment she wondered what it would it have been like to have him as her first kiss. But then she remembered that she was Rachel Berry and he was Noah Puckerman.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, shrugging away from him, "And I'm not ashamed that I waited so long. Although, it seems like I didn't wait for much, did I?"

He dropped his hand as annoyance clouded his features. "I can't believe that was your first kiss."

She was growing furious. "I know it seems ridiculous for people like you, Noah, but some people do actually wait until they're my age to go around _snogging!"_

He stared at her, looking embarrassed and slightly annoyed. "I'm not talking about that! I- I just… Look, Rach. Even a guy like me knows that a girl's first kiss is meant to be special or somethin'…"

There was silence as she considered his words. He was Noah then, someone who contrasted 'Puck'. He'd showed his softer side to her, and willingly too. She risked a small smile, making sure he didn't see her do so, because if he'd seen it he would have thought she was making fun of him. "I thought he was special. But he wasn't," she whispered, "He was just like any other boy. He used me."

"Not all of us are like that."

Rachel knew that there were boys out there who treated girls with respect. She knew that. The truth was, she was a bit of a drama queen and she relished in her own pain and sorrow, at least a tiny bit. "You've used girls," she replied.

Slowly, he nodded. "I know."

They started to walk again, this time slowly. He watched her, admiring the way she held herself before he realised that he'd been checking _Rachel fucking Berry_ out. He seriously needed to get back in the game. He was spending way to much time with her.

"Do you want to try the library again?" Rachel asked, staring at him with hopeful shining eyes. He met them for a moment and almost said yes. But then his eyes slipped down to rest for a moment on her plump, red lips. He looked away quickly, nervously running a hand through his Mohawk. "Nah, I've got some shit to take care of."

Rachel felt a tug in her stomach, reminding her that she'd been a fool to even think Puck would want to spend his free time with her. Sure, he'd joined her today, but that was for the _assignment, _not for her. She tried to fake a smile, but it came out weak and watery. "Okay, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to go see Madam Rosmerta before I head back to the castle."

Puck saw the look on her face as she turned and walked away and he knew that he'd let her down. He felt like a bad person, letting Rachel Berry down like that. She may have been dramatic and more than a little conceited, but she was a genuinely compassionate person. She'd tried to reach out to him and he'd pulled away, as he did with everyone.

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><p>The Hogwarts term returned a week later, as promised. Things went back to the way they had always been. Rachel and Puck were friendly to one another, as they had become accustomed to. But that didn't mean that they'd stop and talk to one another in the hallway. They'd look away with respectful indifference, opting to save their conversations for the Muggle Studies classroom.<p>

The seventh year ball – or the Graduate Ball, as it was known – loomed in the near future. Witches spent most of their class time gossiping about their dates and dresses and corsages. The wizards would offer the occasional grunt about their dressrobes and talk about how hot their dates were. Ball proposals were happening everywhere at every moment, and more than one or two girls were feeling incredibly left out and desperate. Rachel Berry was one of them.

Blaine offered to take her, saying that Kurt wouldn't mind if she tagged along and even stole a few dances with either of them. She politely declined. She was to spend the night making sure Puck - or any of the other Quidditch players, for that matter - got no where near the Pumpkin Juice bowl. That was her night, already planned.

Rachel found herself feeling slightly jealous when gossip got around that Puck was taking Brittany _and _Santana to the ball. She wondered why he'd hidden himself from her as of late, speaking to her only when he needed to. Their project wasn't going anywhere. Puck had decided that he didn't care anymore. He spent Muggle Studies making enchanted paper aeroplanes and throwing them into the back of David Karofsky's head.

Rachel held out for a date. She was mortified that no one had asked her. Jesse was taking some blonde bimbo. She didn't care though. Strangely, she couldn't get the idea of Puck waiting for her to ascend from the stairs into the Great Hall, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock as he stared at her in her Ball gown, out of her mind.

"Rachel," greeted Kurt, slipping around the corner and catching up to her, stumbling only a little on his long legs, "Ve 'ave to go to 'Ogsmeade zis veekend. Blaine and I vill 'elp you find ze perfect dress, Oui?"

The brunette smiled. "I don't know, Kurt. I have plenty of dresses. Plus, I don't even have a date yet." 

"Oh, but you vill!" He exclaimed, excitedly clapping his hands, "I 'ave figured out ze perfect design. Vat is your favourite colour?"

"Pink," she laughed.

The French boy wrinkled his nose. "No, no. Not good enough. Ve vill 'ave to go vit black."

"Black?" Rachel asked, wrinkling her own nose, "No thankyou. I'm not going to a funeral."

"Black eez not just for funerals," he chided, "But for 'aving a good time also."

She shook her head. "It's so… depressing."

He laughed. "No! You know vat eez depressing? You moping around after zis Noah!"

Rachel looked at him, appalled. "I am not _moping _about Noah Puckerman. He is a… rude, sometimes downright disgusting specimen of a man. He and I are merely friends. Blaine would have told you a million times over that I could _never _like someone like that."

Kurt only scoffed and walked away, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "You lie to yourself, Rachel Berry!" he yelled over his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes and continued on her way. She was in pursuit of a book about ancient remedies to help with her Potions assignment. Strolling into the library, she made her way to the back of the room. She was making her way down the last aisle when she came across something that she would never forget.

Noah Puckerman and Quinn Fabray, their lips attached in a passionate embrace, the blonde's back pressed against the hard wood of the nearby bookshelf.


	11. What The Hell Is A Puckleberry?

A/N: I know it's been a very long time but I've been really busy once again! I'm also writing my own novel so it's getting tough to keep up with this story. Don't worry though, I love where this is going so I'll definetely update very soon once again. Fanfiction - albeit not my top priority, my novel is - is fun to write and great to practice for my real novel. Of course, I don't have the priviledge of using such amazing characters in my original work, as I did not create them. There you go, a disclaimer and an Author's Note in one. Enjoy.

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><p>"Noah?"<p>

Slowly, almost as if he were disoriented, Puck broke away from the blonde and stared at Rachel, his mouth slightly ajar with shock, his cheeks a little pink with humiliation. Quinn buried herself in his chest, her eyes apparently now wet with tears. "Please, Rachel. You can't tell Finn. You can't," she sobbed.

Rachel had always been jealous of Quinn Fabray. First of all, she was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Second of all, she had everything Rachel wanted; popularity, talent, brains and self confidence.

And, apparently, Noah Puckerman.

"Rach-" he choked out, unsure of himself, "I-I… we can explain."

"How could you do that to Finn?" Rachel demanded, facing Quinn with anger smouldering in her brown eyes. She ignored the stuttering boy with the Mohawk. "Even after what Noah did to you last time?"

Puck looked down and gently untangled his arms from around Quinn. "Beth wasn't a bad thing," he spat, turning and staring at Rachel with what looked like annoyance. She couldn't be sure, she was so mad. But she hid it. She had no right to be angry or jealous or any of the emotions she was feeling. She and Puck had no emotional attachment, no relationship… nothing. "Beth was the best thing that ever happened to me."

Rachel shook her head, trying to control the tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn't expected this. Hell, no one had expected this. Puck and Quinn were finished forever; Beth Puckerman-Fabray had cemented that. They weren't _meant_ to get back together. "You- you can't do this to your boyfriend," Rachel seethed, "He's been nothing but good to you, Quinn! You can't just go and snog other boys in the library!"

Quinn was starting to return to her normal self. Her ice queen persona back, she wiped her tears away with her slender hand and looked Rachel up and down. Her previous vulnerability had faded - but not completely. Her eyes looked empty on the inside. "And what would you know about boys, RuPaul? All of the boys at Hogwarts won't afford you a second glance. You're no one, Rachel. You'll always be that to us, no matter how big a star you are on your precious _Broadway."_

Rachel gasped, tears finally falling from her eyes. She risked a glance at Noah, who wouldn't look her in the eye. "You told her?" she whispered, "Why would you do that? I don't just go around telling people that. It's _special_."

He couldn't answer her.

"I can't believe you. I bet you made fun of me after you told her!"

"No!" he exclaimed, frustrated, "I mean, I'm sorry, Rach… But I didn't make fun of you or nothin', I swear!"

"Like I'd trust you now. You were probably relaying everything I told you over the holidays to all of your stupid friends! You were laughing at me!"

"No, Rach!" he surged forward and grabbed her hands, which she wrenched away from him. He backed away and Quinn buried her face in her hands. "I didn't. I swear."

"Your swearing doesn't mean anything," she quarrelled, "I can't believe you, the both of you."

At this point, the trio seemed to realise that a small crowd of students had gathered around them, their heads hidden among the shelves nearby. "Fuck off!" Puck yelled, frustrated, "This is none of your business!"

You'd think that a professor would have heard the ruckus and stepped in, but the only authority figure nearby was Madam Pince – and she hadn't seen drama this good in about ten years.

Rachel glanced around, noticing with embarrassment that the spectators were snickering at her. Puck and Quinn, at least, still held their popularity. In fact, this scandal would probably make that sky rocket. But Rachel wasn't popular. She was nothing – just like Quinn had said.

She left the library, her fists clenched and her eyes welling with her pitiful tears. Madam Pince stared at her, unabashed, her glasses crooked on the end of her nose. Rachel gave her a look that clearly said: _You're a teacher. Why didn't you do anything?_

But Madam Pince didn't seem to care. She watched with mild amusement as the teenagers left and then went on with her paperwork. Fifty over-due books that week. She considered asking Dumbledore for a raise or at least permission to hex students.

* * *

><p>News travelled fast at Hogwarts. Noah Puckerman and Quinn Fabray had been having <em>sex <em>right in the middle of the library. That's what the rumour had become, anyway. Noah didn't bother to correct the story. He was a bachelor. Girls were his; lined up either side of the corridors - left, right and centre. Quinn didn't seem to speak to anyone other than Brittany and Santana, so she certainly didn't clear up the rumours. Only Rachel could be bothered to clarify the actual events of the previous afternoon.

Finn Hudson did not seem to understand what had happened. Of course, 'Fuinn' (the couple name they'd been given by the student population), were well and truly over. Students were betting their chocolate frog cards on how soon 'Quick' – you guessed, it, Quinn and Puck - would make a comeback.

"I – I don't think it's any of our business," Rachel stuttered as Jacob Ben Israel shoved his wand in her face. He was using it to record their conversation, an _interview_ in his own words. Jacob ran the unofficial school newspaper and had been unable to acquire an interview with Puck, Quinn or Finn, so he'd gone for the next best thing – which just happened to be the primary witness, Rachel Berry.

"Surely you must have some inside information," he insisted, his eyes huge and curious behind his large glasses, "You were quite close to Puck before the incident."

She shrugged, "More or less-"

"So, why did you stop talking to one another? I have proof that you two were seen together in Hogsmeade during the holidays."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "Can I see that proof?"

Looking excited, Jacob took his wand away from her face and shoved it in the back pocket of his pants. "This is off the record, but yeah, sure, only for you."

She smiled shakily and ignored his creepy gaze as he fiddled around in his shoulder satchel, searching for a video camera. Grinning, he handed her the small object. She switched it on and scrolled through the recent footage, shuddering slightly as she realised just how much of it was of her. Finally, she found it. Her face turned from curious to disturbed as she watched the clip. It was of her and Puck, walking side by side in the snow down Main Street. The person holding the camera, presumably Jacob himself, was running along behind them, breathing heavily. Grossed out, she shut the camera and shoved it back in his bag. "I've seen enough," she snapped.

Jacob grimaced, sniffling a little. "Look, Rachel. If you can't tell me anything about Quick, then I don't really have anything else to ask you…"

Although Rachel sort of hated Jacob, his offer of an interview had excited her. She had decided that in the wake of her recent rise to public attention she would take _any_ opportunity to advertise herself and her future. "Actually, I do have some things to discuss with you. You see, I will be making my Broadway debut in approximately four years-"

At that moment, Finn chose to walk past. Jacob hastily flung his satchel over his shoulder and grabbed his wand from his pocket. He ran off after the Frankenteen, not bothering to say goodbye.

She let her shoulders slump.

"Hey you," somebody sang. Rachel jumped as a heavy arm landed across her shoulders, pulling her in close. She looked up at the person, for some reason expecting Puck – even if she knew he'd _never_ be caught talking in a sing-songvoice – and was both relieved and disappointed to see it was Blaine.

"Hi," she sighed, shrugging him off and turning to look him in the eye, "I've had the worst day ever."

"Tell me about it," Blaine said dramatically, "First, I got porridge in my eye at breakfast and I had to go to Madam Pomfrey to stop the swelling before Arithmacy. Also, Kurt just laughed at my new shoes. So much for Golce and Dabbana."

"I swear it's actually _Dolce and Gabbana."_

Blaine deflated. "Oh. The salesman did look at little shifty. I guess I should have taken Kurt with me to look for them, but I wanted to surprised him, you know?" he asked, a sad smile on his face.

Rachel didn't have time for sympathy. She never had. "I'm sure you didn't have Jacob breathing down your neck for a good half hour."

"Oh. The interview. How'd it go?"

"Bad. I couldn't even get any news out about my upcoming career before Finn walked past."

"Ah, Finn Hudson. The lover scorned."

"Yeah," she scoffed, something Blaine realised she'd inherited from Puck, "He's something like that. At least, he would be if he actually understood what happened to him. He's not even worried. He talks to Noah everyday."

"Noah, huh?" Blaine smirked, "I didn't know you guys were on real name terms."

"I guess we aren't. I'll have to start calling him Puck again."

"Are you fucking serious? No. You'll be together again, just you wait and see. It's like one of those romantic comedies you make me watch-"

"I'm no Katherine Heigl fan, Blaine. I'd rather watch _Funny Girl-"_

"Alright, I like rom-coms. But I'm gay. It's acceptable."

"I know. I could never say no to Gerard Butler."

"Me either," Blaine whispered, almost to himself.

"Besides," Rachel said, straightening her skirt, "Whether you like it or not, the fact that you like Katherine Heigl movies doesn't even matter. Noah… I mean, _Puck, _and I were only friends. I couldn't care less that he and Quinn may be getting back together. In fact, the only thing about this whole debacle that bothered me was how Finn was going to be affected. But it appears that I didn't need to worry. Finn's brain is as empty of emotion and _intellect _as it has always been."

"Harsh, but true," her best friend mused, "But, if you were only friends with _Noah, _then why did Kurt find you sitting at the lake, crying your eyes out as you ate some leftover chocolate pudding you'd stolen from dinner?"

"I- I was menstruating at the time."

"Ugh, gross. Seriously? You stoop that low just to hide the fact that you, Rachel Barbara Berry, have a crush on Noah Elijah Puckerman?"

She crinkled her nose. "How do you even know his middle name?"

He chuckled, "Kurt. He's obsessed with this idea of you two… he calls you '_Puckleberry_'."

Rachel looked alarmed. "Whoa, Kurt's already aware of couple names?"

"I know. Fuckin' creepy, right? But it wasn't his idea. Strangely, he's become friends with Brittany Pierce. She started the name. So far, you have a following of two."

"Isn't Brittany friends with Quinn? Wouldn't she want Quinn and Noah-" she paused, angry at herself for further providing evidence for Kurt's beliefs, "- _Puck… _together again?"

"Yes to the first question. And no to the second, apparently. I know you've kind of had this grudge against her ever since she got Head Girl and you didn't, but Kurt says she isn't like her friends."

Rachel shrugged. "I had to be angry at the time, Blaine. She stole a position that was rightfully mine."

"Don't you think that being stuck as Head Girl could have possibly been a bad thing? Especially considering what happened between you and the current Head Boy…"

"Jesse. His is name Jesse," she mumbled, "Plus, I'm over it. He even said hi to me the other day."

"Really? I was standing next to you and he didn't look at you. Plus, I swear he didn't say _Rachel-"_

"Jesse doesn't look at people when he talks to them. Also, he doesn't know my name. He calls me all sorts of ridiculous things like Raquel, Richelle and Ricky. He even referred to me as Richie Rich one time."

"As in the title character from that adorable Muggle movie?"

"Yes. Although it can be said that Macaulay Culkin isn't so adorable anymore."

"My mum said the same thing about me."

Rachel laughed. "I have to go, Blaine. I'm going to go meet Tina in the library."

"The scene of the crime?" he joked.

"No. The scene of something that happened that is none of my business and has no affect on me as I actually have no reason to be affected by it."

"Wow. Okay."

She chuckled again, trying to appear as if she were joking. She hadn't been. She'd been babbling - something she did when she was stressed.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said, giving him a quick hug. Blaine ruffled her hair with his hand, which she scowled at. "You and Kurt have fun at the lake."

"Oh, we will," he replied sarcastically, "He brought a Burberry picnic blanket with him from Beauxbatons. Who knew it'd actually come in handy?"

Rachel watched as he walked away, stopping for a moment to lean back against the stone wall. She shut her eyes, letting the day's frustrations travel across her mind in a dreadful parade of embarrassment and just general awkwardness. After a minute, when she was finally feeling slightly courageous once again, she plastered a small smile on her face and lifted her chin in the air, ready to face the student population – and more importantly, to show Noah Puckerman that he couldn't make her feel worthless. No matter what.

_Wham._

She fell backwards, her back hitting the stone floor. The wind was knocked out of her. She struggled for breath, looking around for her attacker. Sure enough, Santana Lopez stared down at her, a shit-eating grin on her face. "Have a nice trip, Berry?"

Rachel almost groaned in frustration. Santana was a bitch. Nothing more, nothing less. Instead, she glared up at her, her long brown hair spread around her like a halo. "Oh, it was fabulous, Santana. Thankyou for asking."

The crowd that had gathered around her snickered. "Now, please _fuck off."_

Everyone stopped giggling. Never their lives had any of them heard Rachel Berry mutter an expletive. Rachel seemed a little shocked _herself _- although only for a split second. She'd had enough of Hogwarts and it's pathetic little games.

"Nothing to see here," said a new voice, "Just trash, on the floor, where it belongs."

When Quinn walked past, everyone turned to look at her. She stared at them all in return. She was the ice queen and it was _her_ castle.

The crowd dispersed, Quinn and her Latina minion in the front. They disappeared around the corner, every single student. Except one.

"Are you okay?"

Rachel was fixing herself, patting her wild hair down with her hands. "I'm fine," she spat without looking up, "It's just another bad chapter to add to my life story."

"Well, hopefully I can be part of the next chapter. A good one, that is," said the stranger, offering her his hand. She took it warily, looking him directly in his bright blue eyes. When she was upright, he reluctantly let go of her hand and ran it through his blonde hair. Strangely, he reminded her of Quinn. But where Quinn was winter, the boy was summer.

"You're Rachel Berry, right?"

She nodded, hastily straightening her skirt. She'd never seen the boy before. She wondered how in the world the school had managed to have _two _transfers in her final year, especially considering they'd never had one before. Not _ever. _

"Are you new to this school?"

The boy laughed, showing her his straight, white teeth. She blushed a little, unsure of how to feel about him.

"Nah. You haven't met me before. I'm Sam Evans, I'm in the year below."


	12. Assignment's Over, Berry

A/N: Hi all. Here's a new chapter! Oh, and also, make sure you keep an eye out for a new story on my profile; it's coming soon! I'm going to start writing it straight after I post this, actually. The story will focus on Puck and his life after high school!

* * *

><p>Rachel found a way to get through the next month – Sam.<p>

She didn't fully understand how she hadn't met him before. He was everything she wanted; kind, funny, attractive and most importantly: he was _incredibly _supportive of her career.

The sixth year Hufflepuff boys were a whole new race. Concerned only with the most simplistic and enjoyable of things, they were content to spend time with almost anyone. Rachel found herself growing increasingly attached to Mike Chang, Matt Rutherford and, of course, Sam.

After she had met Sam for the first time, Blaine had met her at dinner practically buzzing with questions about the blonde boy. He'd apparently been talking about a 'hot brunette' when Blaine had entered the Hufflepuff common room. An all around nice guy, Blaine had joined in on the conversation – only to discover that the girl they were talking about was none other than his sort of best friend, _Rachel Berry._

Rachel had never received much male attention, so she'd been just as shocked as she'd been when she'd found out that _Cats _had been cancelled. Of course, the attention had been welcomed. Sam Evans was a fine specimen in not only Kurt and Blaine's words, but also in Rachel's. In fact, to score so high had made her suspicious at first. Was Sam playing a joke on her?

It turned out that no; Sam didn't break Rachel's heart. In fact, within a week Sam had asked Rachel to be his girlfriend – and she had said yes.

* * *

><p>"Mr Puckerman, Miss Berry… you're up."<p>

Professor William Schuester wasn't out of a job yet. He was only a substitute, yet the school were paying him as a permanent staff member. William wasn't going to say no to extra money - if he did, his wife Terri would most likely murder him alive.

Professor Burbage's hiccups were getting worse and Madam Pomfrey and all of the brews Slughorn could concoct could do nothing to stop them. Soon enough, she would be sent off to _St. Mungo's _to receive more intensive treatment.

"Come on, show us what you've come up with," Schuester ordered, watching the two students before him with tired, weary eyes. He'd had enough of teaching Muggle Studies. All of the students were hard to deal with for certain reasons. Finn Hudson was incredibly stupid, Quinn Fabray didn't give a damn what you told her to do - she'd never do it, Mercedes Jones was a diva and David Karofsky was a heckler. Seriously. He heckled anything that moved.

But Noah Puckerman and Rachel Berry were by far the worst of all.

They hadn't spoken a word to one another in almost two weeks. He knew that they were in some sort of disagreement. That would have been easy enough. A trip to the counsellour, he'd say, would usually suffice. Still, that plan was a no go. He had no _fucking _idea what said disagreement was about.

But, William had noticed, the way their eyes flickered to observe the other when they weren't watching told him _everything_ – there was attraction there. Just… well, either they didn't know it or they just weren't willing to face the facts.

Rachel was standing, her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Puck was taking his time, searching for an imaginary quill to use to take imaginary notes on his imaginary roll of parchment. "Noah – _Puck," _she hissed restlessly, realising with embarrassment that the rest of the class and the Professor were watching them with annoyance on their faces, "Hurry up."

Puck rolled his eyes and stood up, pushing past her to get to the front of the classroom. She followed him.

"Okay, Miss Berry. Could you tell us a little bit about your assigned Muggle?"

The assignment was practically over and done with. After their presentation, Rachel could finally be free of Noah Puckerman. Everything would go back to the way it once was – although, including Sam – which was definitely a positive factor.

"Certainly, Professor," Rachel replied, showing the handsome young teacher a dazzling smile. Although she had a boyfriend now, she could still crush on him. A little teach crush was healthy and completely natural. It wasn't hurting anyone.

The bad thing was that Rachel's infatuation wasn't exactly a secret. She wasn't good at keeping her emotions from playing out on her face, plain as day, for everyone to see. Puck sent her a look that clearly said: _Seriously?_

She shook her head and continued.

"Well, our Muggle is Amy Mann. She's seventeen years old and she wants more than _anything_ to become a lawyer," smiling, Rachel went on with her well rehearsed introduction, "The problem Noa – err, _Puck _and I had to face was quite complex. Amy fell pregnant, which put her dream future in the balance."

Rachel surveyed the class. Ninety percent of them weren't paying attention. Given the circumstances, you would have thought Quinn would have at least blinked. She did no such thing, though. Finn tentatively raised his hand.

"What'd you guys decide to do?"

It was the most coherent and relevant question he had asked all year. Puck stared at his best friend, shocked. Rachel only smiled. Maybe breaking up with Quinn had been a good thing for the Frankenteen – it might have tested his brain or something.

"Isn't it pretty fuckin' obvious?" Puck asked. Rachel turned, expecting a mischievous grin. She instead found a solemn expression.

"Mr Puckerman," Professor Schuester said in warning. At home, William liked to swear. It helped him relieve stress. Still, having his students thinking that trash-talk was condoned at Hogwarts would only get him in trouble. In fact, if his job was to stop children from using profanities, Noah would have gotten him fired on his first day.

"Well, isn't it obvious, sir?"

When Schuester shrugged, apparently not wanting to disclose an answer, the class perked up. Slowly, Finn opened his mouth to speak, a slightly dazed expression on his face, "Uh… no?"

Puck laughed; a dry, humourless noise.

"She's gonna terminate it."

* * *

><p>"Noah!"<p>

Rachel shoved through the masses, clearing a path among the black uniforms of her fellow students. Her frantic movements caused a nearby fourth year to drop her text books. Rachel ignored her abuse as she continued on after the man with the Mohawk who was slowly but surely evading her.

"Noah Puckerman, you stop right now!"

He didn't listen. He was done with Rachel Berry and her stupid ambitions. The assignment hadn't gone the way that she'd wanted. Unable to admit that Puck had taken the initial plan of the assignment and ran away with it - far off into the distant, flower covered hills - she'd initially gone along with the idea that Amy would terminate her child.

Of course, that had never been the real plan. Amy would have become a mother and kept the child for her own, whilst also following her dream and getting into Law school. Sure, it may have been realistic but they had to give her the future she deserved.

Puck sometimes thought that Rachel had made him think that Amy was real.

Everything was going alright. Schuester, whilst a little dubious of their judgement, had no right to mark them on what they had decided to do. After all, the assignment was talking through ideas with a partner and making valued desicions. Rachel and Puck could say that they had simply decided to put Amy's career before her family.

But then disaster had struck – Rachel had admitted that Puck was lying. She couldn't do it. She couldn't lie like that - not in front of everyone. She wondered why Puck had decided to change everything. She wondered what had changed in him since that day so _long ago_ when he'd told her that if he'd had a second chance, he would have convinced Quinn to quit school with him and come and raise their daughter together. They could have gotten married, even, he'd told her, but only if that made Quinn happy.

Professor Schuester had told them that he'd thought they hadn't understood the _real _point of the assignment. Sure, they were meant to further understand Muggle behaviour and lifestyles. But more importantly they were meant to learn to work as a team. Rachel had failed her first assignment _ever. _Puck had failed his thirty-fifth.

"I don't have to listen to you any more, Berry! We're not partners!"

Rachel took a deep breath, struggling to continue jogging along behind him. She slammed into a first year, yelled them an apology and kept right on going. "I know that we don't talk much anymore, especially following the Quinn incident-" she paused and wheezed, "But really, Noa- _Puck, _can you blame me for that? I thought you had changed for the better!"

He didn't bother to turn around when he flipped her the bird. Shocked, she stopped running and stared at his retreating figure. Her mouth still agape, she started to move again. "Regardless of what you just did, I'm going to keep following you!"

A few metres ahead, he rolled his eyes and turned an abrupt corner. Rachel didn't miss a beat though; she'd caught up to him in seconds. He gave her a sour look.

"Anyway, what I was saying was…" she trailed off, trying to catch her breath. He didn't wait for her, instead turning another corner. He smacked into a small Slytherin but didn't apologise. He was a badass, after all.

"What I was saying-" Rachel snapped, catching up to him once again. She struggled for the right words. He didn't look at her. He just needed to get away.

"Oh, screw it, _Puckerman. _If you want to pretend like we weren't even friends then that's fine with me!"

Puck took a few more steps and stopped. However, when he turned around again, she was walking away. Maybe, if he'd been a better person, he would have gone after her. But Puckzilla wasn't about to grovel to Rachel Berry. He was about to go and get changed for his Quidditch match. Then, he was going to kick some serious Hufflepuff ass.

* * *

><p>Rachel was in a terrible mood when she arrived at the Quidditch pitch that afternoon. Blaine met her in the stands, wearing his house colours with pride. A giant grin was bright on his face. It fell when he saw the redness around her eyes, however.<p>

"Sam?"

Silently, she shook her head. He took a seat next to her and put his arm around her petite shoulders.

"Puck?" he whispered gently.

She nodded. Then, seeing the strange look ghosting over the boy's features, she shook her head quickly. "He made us fail our assignment, Blaine. That's why I was crying."

Blaine stroked her hair, accepting her lie. He knew that Puck's friendship meant more to her than she let on. Noah Puckerman had been her own personal project; a bad boy who she had thought _could_ be turned good. Regardless of what they had both thought, it appeared that that just wasn't possible.

"It's okay," he said, plastering on a smile to try and cheer her up, "Sam's playing. This is his first match that you'll get to see."

She grimaced. "You're right. And I haven't been to a Quidditch match since my first year here. Tacky and over-celebrated, I say."

He gave her a look.

"Alright," she admitted, "I have no objections to watching Sam being manly and controlling out on the pitch. In fact, I could write you a list of reasons why I want to be here."

"I 'ope one of zem eez because I am 'ere."

They both looked up to see a tall boy with perfect, elfin features. He wore a Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around his neck in a rather flamboyant fashion. His cloak was cut to resemble something that could be described as a stylish poncho – if there ever _was_ such a thing. He wore a small golden ribbon on his chest. In elaborate silver calligraphy, it read: _Viva la Marc Jacobs._

"Kurt!" Rachel exclaimed, jumping up and hugging the French boy, "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Kurt shrugged and flashed his boyfriend, Blaine, a shy smile. "Blaine 'as been keeping me very occupied. 'E took me to ze lake last veek, zen ze 'Oneydukes where 'e kissed me-"

Blaine blushed, "Kurt! You'll tell her all our secrets."

The French boy actually grinned as he took a seat in-between Rachel and Blaine. "Too bad zat neither of our teams made eet zis far, no?"

Rachel shook her head. "I couldn't care less about Quidditch," she said truthfully, "I'm only here to support Sam."

Kurt brightened. "'Ow are you and Sammy?"

"We're… we're perfect," she replied, smiling and instantly forgetting about the whole Noah Puckerman debacle, "I'm lucky to have him."

"I'd say he's lucky to have _you_," Blaine said.

Rachel smiled. "Thankyou, Blaine-"

"The match is starting," he said quickly, effectively cutting her off. She wasn't offended. Blaine may be as gay as a sparkly pink unicorn draped in Calvin Klein whilst reading Perez Hilton's latest gossip blast and singing Prince in perfect falsetto, but he still loved a lot of generalised 'straight man' things. That very much included Quidditch. Rachel knew she meant a lot to him and she didn't need any clarification.

The teams made their way out onto the Quidditch pitch. They were a sea of colour, a colliding force of red and gold, yellow and bronze. Rachel recognised a few familiar faces: Puck, Finn, Quinn and a small, weepy looking boy named Artie Abrams were dressed in their Gryffindor robes; meanwhile Sam, Mike and Matt were looking sharp in their Hufflepuff gear.

The Hufflepuff Captain – a boy who Rachel didn't know – made his way over to the centre of the pitch to shake hands with Puck. He held out his hand but Puck didn't take it. Instead, he just stared at him. Looking a little lost and intimidated, the captain made his way back to the rest of the team, who welcomed him by chanting, "_Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff!"_

"What the _hell_ is a Hufflepuff?" Rachel heard someone yell from the stands above her.

The match had begun. Racing to an early lead, Hufflepuff were in high spirits. Sam – a chaser – was happily fist-bumping and high-fiving his friends as they zoomed past him on their brooms. He scored two goals, upsetting Quinn – the Gryffindor Keeper, who took out her frustration on the lowest goal post. She kicked it a few times – of course, only when the ball was in play on the other side of the field.

Although she was meant to be watching Sam, Rachel found herself following Puck with her eyes. The way he played was hard to analyse. She fancied herself no Quidditch expert, but she certainly thought that he _looked_ like he was playing well. His sportsmanship, however, could definitely be questioned.

Hufflepuff were leading by miles when she noticed a fight breaking out in the far corner of the pitch. Blaine also appeared to have noticed it. Intrigued, he stood up to get a better look. A few fifth years behind him complained that he was blocking the view. He didn't seem to care. Squinting, he cupped his hands around his eyes as if he were using binoculars. Kurt looked uninterested; he'd pulled out a nail file ten minutes ago and was currently striving for nail-bed perfection.

"Um, Rach?" Blaine whispered, turning to look down at her.

"Mm?" she mumbled. She wasn't listening, really. She was honing in on the only interesting thing that had happened at the damned match. Something, finally, was getting interesting. A little drama went a long way in Rachel Berry's book.

Quietly, Blaine took his seat again. The fifth years seemed pleased. "Thanks, git!" one yelled, waving his Gryffindor flag at him in a jeering matter.

He ignored them. "Rach, I don't know if you've realised this, but, um…"

"What?" she snapped, this time turning to look at him. Her eyes widened when she saw the somewhat guilty but sheepish expression on his face.

"The – the _battle royale _over on the far side of the pitch-"

This time, Kurt was the first to respond. He stood up suddenly, eliciting more insults and abuse from the fifth year Gryffindors behind them.

"Rachel," he said gleefully, "Eet appears zat zere eez a battle for your 'onour going on."


	13. A User And An Abuser

A/N: Hi again! Here's a new chapter, nice and quick. It's shorter than usual but I wanted to get something out after I left you all hanging like that. Have fun and please leave me reviews. They mean so much to me and thank you so so much to everyone who's left me kind messages so far. Your support means so much to me!

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><p>"… And we're at the scene of the crime here with Rachel Berry. How are you feeling, Rachel?"<p>

"Jacob- _Jacob._ Not now, okay?"

"So, you're feeling remorseful. Two young, brave men fighting for your honour, as your friend Kurt Hummel told us just over an hour ago. Your story is the biggest thing since the Quinn/Finn/Puck love triangle. Safe to say you're in your own now, huh?"

"Sorry, I'm not exactly following."

"Your own love triangle. Is it safe to say you're in one?"

"Uh, n-no! Of course not. Sam Evans is my boyfriend and I would never even dream of cheating on him. Now, will you please move? I want to see if he's okay."

"But, Rachel, could you tell us exactly what your relationship with Noah Puckerman is?"

"Jacob, let me through!"

"No. I need this story, Rachel Berry. You can't ruin me like this!"

"_Jacob!"_

* * *

><p>Sam had a black eye and a broken arm. When Rachel finally pushed past Jacob to get into the Infirmary, she immediately rushed to his side.<p>

"What happened?" she asked him, her voice only a whisper. She took a seat at the end of his bed, careful not to sit on his feet. He smiled.

"You've got a psycho in your Muggle Studies class, Rachel."

"What did he do to you?"

"I don't really know. Just sort of jumped me."

"Over nothing?"

Sam squirmed uncomfortably. "Not really _nothing_. I'm sure you've heard what happened already, anyway."

Slowly, she nodded. "Jacob got a megaphone from somewhere shortly after you passed out. He took advantage of what Noah- I mean, Puck, told him."

The look on Sam's face said: _And what did he tell him?_

"He said something tyrannical like: _Puckzilla is the baddass-est of badasses."_

Her boyfriend snorted. "Sounds like something he'd say," he chuckled, wincing a little when he tried to move his arm. Rachel reached over and gently took his hand in her own.

"Are you okay? I can get Madam Pomfrey to stop helping that _oaf _and come and fix your arm already."

Sam shook his head, a lopsided grin on his face. The grin slowly melted. "He likes you, you know," he said quietly.

Rachel almost laughed. "No. That's not true. I'm _Rachel Berry_. He's _Noah Puckerman_."

"So? And I'm _Sam Evans."_

"I'm just saying that No- Puck, and I could never be together that way. Besides, I'd never want to be. I have you."

"He wants to be."

"Stop being silly and jealous," she whispered, smirking at him, "I've only got eyes for you."

Sam prodded himself up by his elbows and motioned for her to come closer. Careful of his not yet healed arm, she buried herself in his warm hug. He kissed her hair and she tucked her head under his chin.

"Alright, alright. He's not dying, Miss Berry. Give me some room to work on the bugger."

Rachel untangled herself from Sam, giving Madam Pomfrey a small smile. The woman tried to be strict but her act didn't fool anyone. She was a care-giver to them all. She didn't like it when students got hurt.

Sam surprised Rachel by stealing a quick kiss. Caught unprepared, she stared at him, wide-eyed, when he released her. "I'll see you later," he said sweetly, winking at her.

She was about to leave the Infirmary all together when she spied Puck sneaking away from his bed. "Hey," she snapped, marching towards him. He stopped, expecting Madam Pomfrey and her disgusting remedies.

"Hey yourself, lady. I'm fuckin' fine, alright-?"

He trailed off when he saw her. "Hi, Rach."

"Oh, so it's Rach again, is it?" she spat, crossing her arms. "Why would you attack Sam like that?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," he replied, "Your perfect boyfriend isn't so fuckin' perfect after all."

"Try me, _Puckzilla."_

"He was saying obscene shit about you, Rach. I didn't wanna listen to it anymore."

Rachel scoffed. "He would never say _obscene _things about me. Who are you to talk anyway?"

Puck groaned, dragging a hand across his face in a comical fashion. "Don't worry about it then. We don't even have to talk anymore. You and Toy Boy Sammy-pants have fun together."

"Toy Boy Sammy-" she paused, "Really, Noah?"

"I'm a little off my game, alright?"

She observed him. He really was 'off his game'. A split lip may have been his only remaining injury but ten minutes ago he'd had both a fractured wrist and a dislocated knee.

"You lost that fight, you know," she said smugly.

He rolled his eyes. "_Please._ I wasn't even trying."

"You jumped him at half time when he was getting off his broom, Noah. You were obviously trying. But don't worry, it's not your fault that Sam's better than you-"

"Okay, you can tell me that when you've actually realised that he's only using you for sex."

Rachel was about to laugh when she saw the look on his face. It wasn't mocking her, not even mocking Sam. She recalled thinking about him as two different people. Puck was the rebellious, promiscuous kind of guy. Noah was the caring, misunderstood one. And at that moment, he sure as heck looked like Noah.

"W- We haven't… you know, done _that_ yet," she replied. Her eyes flickered back to Sam, sitting on his bed as Madam Pomfrey healed his broken arm. His eyes were shut in pain. She wondered if such a kind boy could really do that to her. "He hasn't tried anything on me. I don't think he will, Noah. He's a nice boy-"

"Look, Rach," Puck said, filled with guilt. He didn't want to tell a girl like Rachel that her boyfriend was actually a pretentious asshole. She'd already had Jesse to deal with. "I know what he's doing. Him and that Asian kid – Mike, I think – were talking about it. He was gonna try _get some_ after the Graduation Ball."

"You're over-reacting. He is a boy, after all. And Mike _is _a bit of a man-whore. He was probably just joking around-"

"Maybe, Rach. But, regardless of what their real intentions are, I didn't like the way they were talking about you."

Slowly, she shook her head. "I- I don't really believe you. You talk about girls like their trash anyway, Noah. I've heard it all from you."

"Yeah…"

Rachel looked at him quizzically. He looked at her right in the eyes, a small blush creeping up the back of his neck. Her eyes zoomed in on his injured lip. It really was quite bad; it was covered with dry blood and there was a developing blister. She wondered whether or not Pucky Puck would see action for another week or two. She guessed that it would. Girls went crazy for an injured soldier - and Noah Puckerman was the closest they could get to that at Hogwarts.

Puck opened and closed his mouth as if he were searching for the right words to use. "Yeah, but other girls aren't you," he finally choked out.

* * *

><p><em>But other girls aren't you. <em>

Rachel didn't understand Noah. Not in the slightest.

"It's fucking obvious. He likes you," Blaine whispered, amused, "He really fucking likes you, Rach. Tell me, when did you become hot?"

She blanched. "Um, I don't think I did."

"Then why have you got two hot guys after you? I've only got one," he said sadly.

"Kurt is amazing and even half of him would be enough for you."

"I know," he moped, "But sometimes I get jealous."

She sighed, "There's nothing to be jealous of. I don't even know what's going on anymore."

They were in Potions. Rachel was the only one actually working, as per usual. "Remind me how you got into seventh year Potions, again. Especially considering I haven't seen you make one thing all year."

"I'm a genius," Blaine said simply, "And since I'm a genius, I think you should listen to my plan. Kurt wants to take you shopping this weekend for the Ball but I'm _so_ not doing that. I'd rather stay here and finish up some homework. So, will you keep him occupied for me?"

She shook her head. "I'm not going, Blaine."

"What? Shopping or to the Grad Ball?"

"Both."

He flashed her a look of mock-horror. "Why?"

She shrugged, gently pouring boiled water into her cauldron and giving it a quick stir.

"You believe Puck don't you?"

"I never said that."

"The look on your face tells me everything," Blaine whispered, his voice sharp, "You like him, too."

"I do not. I've told you this almost a million times."

"Then why aren't you going to the dance with Sam?"

She didn't say anything.

"You haven't spoken to him since Puck told you that he was saying bad things, have you?" When she didn't reply again, he slapped the side of the cauldron with excitement. A large bubble popped inside, showering them both with sparkly blue gas. Blaine coughed a little, but he was still smirking. "I didn't like him for you, anyway. Too… nice."

"I'm still with Sam," Rachel said, rolling her eyes, "I'm just not going to the Ball, okay? It's not a big deal."

"Rach, you've been going on and on about the Ball since first year. You're going whether you think you are or not."

"I'm not going and that's final."

Blaine actually laughed. "You're going. I'll tell Kurt that you said yes."

"No you won't. I'll tell him about the time you thought you were bi-"

"He already knows about that," Blaine said quickly, brushing her off by waving his hand in a '_been there, done that' _fashion, "You'll have to think of something better to blackmail me with."

"No I won't, actually. I just won't come out of the common room that day. You don't even know where the Slytherin quarters are."

"That's true, but I'll find it. Hufflepuffs are particularly good finders."

Rachel groaned. "You can't get me to do something I don't want to do."

"Oh, but I can," Blaine winked, "The gays are amazing persuaders. We can get you to think you want something when you actually don't want it at all."

Confused, she looked at him as if he were crazy. "Are you trying to seduce me?" She asked him, her eyebrows furrowed.

He scoffed. "No. Never. _Yuck_," he paused, "No offense, of course."

"None taken. But I'm still not going."

Rachel _was_ going to the Graduation Ball. Blaine couldn't really convince her, but Kurt Hummel certainly could. All it took was one; "_Eef you don't go to ze Ball, Rachel Berry, zen I vill skin you vilst you are still alive and use you in coat like Cruella DeVille did to zose poor leetle puppy dogs!" _and she was scared to say no anymore.


	14. Wan' Dance Baby?

A/N: Hey everybody. Here's the long-awaited new chapter! This has been one of my favourite chapters to write, even though I'm in bed throwing up as I type this. It's been rather hilarious, writing feeling this way. I assure you that I'm getting better, though. Yesterday was terrible. Today is just a little below average.

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><p>Rachel absentmindedly toyed with the silky, navy blue fabric of her dress. She thought that it made her look like a young girl on her way to Sunday school, but Kurt had insisted that it was <em>tres chic. <em>Her palms were a little too sweaty for comfort and her heart was hammering in her chest. Trying to calm her nerves, she practiced her fake smile.

There was only a month left before her final exams. After those, Hogwarts would become a distant, foggy memory. Her life in the Muggle world would start.

She was sitting on a bench outside the Great Hall, listening as beautiful classical music reverberated within the walls.

She'd only afforded herself a glance at the decorations inside. Classy, elegant ice sculptures of Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw were lined up at the far end of the Hall, in-between long tables covered in the most delectable of foods. The middle of the room was reserved for dancing. Witches and wizards in their finest clothes twirled across the dance floor in a sea of rhythmical movement. There were tiny tables draped in silver table-cloths on the far right side of the Hall. Students sat there with their dates, enjoying the evening. Most of the teachers were drunk, thanks to her new worst enemy; Blishen's Firewhisky. Half of the students were drinking it under the tables and no matter how much she wanted to whip out a roll of parchment and write them all down for detentions, she just couldn't bring herself to care.

Rachel wondered where Sam was.

It had been fifteen minutes and she was starting to worry. Biting her lip, she told herself that if he didn't show in the next five minutes, she would return to her dormitory and spend the night crying herself to sleep, sobbing the lyrics to _On My Own._

It was a pity, really, that he hadn't turned up yet. Although Rachel couldn't bring herself to enter the Hall on her own, she really wanted to go inside. The Graduation Ball was magical – a night that her fathers described as one of the best of their lives. She wanted it to have a place among her happiest memories. If Sam didn't show up, she realised that it would probably have a place among the saddest.

Originally, Rachel had debated inviting her boyfriend. What Puck had said had well and truly scared her away from the blonde boy for quite a while. But deciding that she would find out the truth for herself, she'd asked him to escort her.

She'd seen many a couple walk in through the large double doors to her left. There had been Tina and Sam's friend Mike, Quinn and Finn with their respective dates, Kurt and Blaine (who had offered to spend time with her until Sam arrived, an offer she had politely declined), Jesse with another bimbo, and Puck with Santana and Brittany on each arm. He'd looked at her with little emotion, which was understandable. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye since they'd spoken in the Infirmary. But there had been something in his hazel eyes when he'd glanced at her, Santana leaning against his body in a possessive manner. It was something like pity, and she hated him for it.

"Who are you waiting for?"

The voice was strange but familiar. Like cold honey.

"My boyfriend," Rachel said quietly. She looked up in the direction of the voice, only slightly surprised to see Quinn hovering by the double doors, nothing but a blizzard in her silver floor length gown. She eyed the blonde girl with uncertainty. "Why?"

Quinn tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leant against the wooden door frame. "I was just making conversation."

"You're Quinn Fabray. You don't make conversation without an ulterior motive."

The blonde shrugged. "You're right. I've got a reason to talk to you."

Rachel actually scoffed. When she saw the glare she got in return, she hastily looked down at her feet. She'd painted her toe-nails navy to match her dress. Her feet were clad in small, strapped heels. Kurt had looked at her as if she were five when she'd bought them - but lovingly, if she did say so herself.

"I came to talk to you, Rachel, because I feel sorry for you."

The brunette laughed. "I wouldn't feel sorry for me. Soon enough, I'll be more successful than all of you. Just give me five years."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm not apologising for anything I've done to you in the past. You're a loser and most of the time you're extremely annoying to be around… but I know that you're a good person. I'm just saying that I'm sorry that most people take advantage of that."

"You are one of those people, Quinn."

Slowly, she shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing. "No, I'm not. I may have been mean to you, but I've never taken advantage."

Rachel didn't say anything. She was hoping that Sam would come and rescue her from the whole situation.

"Jesse took advantage, Rachel. Sam Evans may be important to you, but-"

"He's coming," Rachel spat, "Okay? I promise you that he'll be here. H- He loves _me_, Quinn."

Quinn's expression didn't change as she looked at the smaller girl. "Fine, Rachel. It's just- I can't understand why he'd choose you-"

Rachel pushed herself to her feet, willing herself not to cry. "I'm not _repulsive. _I have my own personal allure and I don't see why it's so hard for all of you to believe that I've found someone who actually has feelings for me."

Quinn looked down at her own feet. "I know."

"Then why say those things?"

"I don't know. Just- Just know that when you saw Puck and I together… it didn't mean anything to him."

Rachel stared at the other girl. "Did it mean anything to you?"

"Of course it did," Quinn said gently, "He's the father of my child. I don't think I'll ever get over him. I tried to push him away after Beth was born because neither of us could really be _together _after knowing that we'd given her up. We loved her too much. He moved on, though. He won't love me again, I don't think."

"He wanted to keep the baby."

The blonde nodded. "I know that, too. It wouldn't have been right, though... to do that. We weren't ready."

Rachel took a few steps back and slowly sat down on the bench once more. She kept her eyes on the staircase, waiting for a certain boy to traipse down them and prove Quinn wrong. Still, she was scared. She was terrified, actually. What if he didn't come? She'd have to face the fact that Noah Puckerman was a little bit right. If Sam didn't show up then that meant that he _wasn't_ using her for sex. Regardless, he would still be a complete ass. If he did show up she'd spend the whole night wondering if he was planning on seducing her at the end of the dance.

Strangely, Rachel realised that she didn't want Quinn to leave. If she did then she'd be alone again - waiting for her supposed boyfriend.

"Why weren't you ready?" She mumbled, clasping her hands together and staring, unblinking, at the staircase. A few students made their way down it, hand-in-hand with their dates. She caught a glimpse of a blonde head and her eyes lit up. Maybe it was him–

No. False alarm.

"We were too young. I wasn't ready to give up on my dreams and Puck certainly wasn't ready to give up women, contrary to what he told me at the time. Beth needed real parents. Not us."

Rachel looked back at Quinn – her tormenter, her ice-queen, her _enemy_. "I know why you're in Gryffindor. You're one of the bravest people at this school-"

"But not the nicest," Quinn replied. "You don't have to say it. I know. In fact, I kind of take pride in it."

"He _did _love you."

"Maybe. But not anymore."

They stayed silent for a few minutes, just thinking.

"I don't think he's coming, Rachel."

Quinn's words were right. As the blonde slipped away, back into the Great Hall, Rachel decided that she wasn't going to wait anymore.

She danced with Kurt and Blaine for what seemed like hours. It was fun and she was starting to forget that she was miserable and alone. Butterbeer certainly helped. It wasn't strong enough to be considered real alcohol, but it made her feel lighter somehow. Like she was finally happy.

It was nearing the end of the night when a slow, romantic song began to play. The evening had begun with tasteful classical music and gradually progressed into the more widely appreciated pop variety. Rachel hadn't minded. She loved music no matter what genre. The song playing was a Muggle one – something she recognised from one of her favourite movies. She excused herself and made her way to a nearby table, leaving Kurt and Blaine to dance alone.

She'd been sipping her Butterbeer when she heard it – a familiar slur.

"Wan' dance, baby?"

She jumped as he crashed into the seat across from her, his legs and arms awkwardly positioned. She hadn't seen him for a few hours. Slowly, she remembered seeing him sneaking Firewhisky under a table at the beginning of the Ball. She'd laughed carelessly as she'd danced with Kurt. Now that she was alone again, she realised that she probably should have been angry with him for avoiding her lately.

"You're drunk."

"No shit," Puck mumbled, letting his head fall onto the table. He rubbed his cheek against the silver fabric of the table-cloth. "I wouldn't a' come an' assed you to dance, 'therwise."

"You mean asked. You can't _ass _someone to dance."

"Cares? I'm drunk an' you're hot."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. Never before had she received a compliment like that from Noah Puckerman. She had to remind herself that he was intoxicated and he probably didn't mean it. "You really should go back to your dormitory before you get caught," she warned.

"Only if you plan on comin' back with me, Rachy."

She took another sip of her drink. "Well, I don't."

His arm flung out across the table and grabbed her free hand. He took it in his own and looked at her, his eyes droopy and a lop-sided grin on his face. "Dance with me?"

"No, Noah. Go away before I write you a detention."

"I always found that so sexy, ya know?" He slurred, clumsily massaging her hand with his thumb. She couldn't bring herself to pull it away from him. "When you try an' tell me off for shit."

"Your flattery doesn't count at the moment," she stated, mostly for her own benefit. "It's almost pitiful."

He let his head fall back onto the table.

She sighed. "Did you really have to get drunk tonight?"

"I didn't wan' see my girl with that prick," he mumbled, "I couldn't see that shit."

"You don't have a girl, Noah. You and Quinn broke up a long time ago."

"Not Quinn, silly. You. You're my girl."

Rachel's heart was hammering in her chest. "You don't mean that."

He said something unintelligible, then, "Dance with me, Rachy."

Reluctantly, she untangled her hand from his, stood up and made her way over to him. He looked up at her, smirking. "I like your dress, babe."

"Thankyou," she smiled then attempted to pull him to his feet, "But you're coming with me to find Finn. He'll get you back to your dorm room."

"Nah, baby."

"Yes, Noah. If you get in trouble again I don't know what will happen to you."

"I like it when you say trouble. Say it again."

"Trou-" she hastily stopped herself, "No. Come on, let's go."

He followed her, regardless. She was in a strange state of mind. Confused about Puck and his drunken conversation with her, and sad when she thought about Sam. He had never shown up. She wasn't sure if they were still together or not.

They were halfway to the double doors when Puck reached out for her, pulling her into his arms. She squealed a little in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She wasn't sure how to respond to his actions. Firstly, she was filled with a strange sense of safety when she felt his body against her back. Secondly, she was annoyed because she'd spent a good hour getting her hair _just right. _

"Rachy," he whispered against her hair, "Just dance with me. One time."

She stood completely still, unsure of what to do. She was frozen with nerves. Slowly, she nodded. She could feel his smile without even seeing it.

He led her to the dance floor, only stumbling a little from time to time. Gently, he took her in his arms and swayed awkwardly from side to side. He wasn't much of a dancer but she wasn't at all fussed. People were looking at them as if they were wild animals that had recently escaped from the zoo.

They were dancing when she felt his hand travelling down her back. Outraged, she reached around and slapped it away. He laughed. "Okay. Won't do it again."

"You'd better not try it."

"Even though that dress looks so _fuckin'_ good on you?"

She stared at him, annoyed. "Yes."

He leant down to rest his head on her shoulder. She tried to shrug him off but he was too heavy. She couldn't move. "I can't dance if you're doing that," she muttered.

"Where's your prick?" he whispered in her ear.

Repulsed, she tried to move him off of her again. It didn't work. "Excuse me?"

"Toy-boy Sammy-pants."

"Oh," she swallowed. "I-I don't know."

She felt him tense. "He didn't show?"

Quietly, she shook her head as best as she could. She could feel the tears coming again. Her throat was dry and she was humiliated. She'd wanted more than anything to prove Puck wrong. But he'd been right - at least on some level.

He lifted his head and looked down at her. "I'll fuckin' kill him, Rachy. I promise."

She laughed uneasily, her eyes brimming with water. "You're a very different person when you're drunk."

"I didn't like him anyway. Too blonde. But fuckin' my girl 'round makes me wanna kill him even more."

He brushed a tear from her cheek and she shivered. "I-I'm not your girl, Noah. I don't know who you think I am, but it's me… _Rachel_ _Berry."_

"I'm drunk, Rach. I don't have amnesia," he chuckled.

"You don't know what you're saying, though."

He shrugged, pulling her closer. She resisted him, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock as she stared past him.

"What's wrong, baby?" He slurred.

"My pricks here," she answered, "He doesn't look too happy."

Slowly, Puck turned in the opposite direction. "You're right, babe. He looks like someone just took out a machine gun and shot the fuck out of the Teletubbies."

"You know about the Teletubbies?"

"I have a lil' sis, Rachy. And my favourite's the purple one, in case you were wondering."


	15. A Changed Berry, Like Out Of Season

A/N: Just felt the need to post again quickly. Spent all day in bed writing this and it's been a challenge - but I think it worked. Tell me what you think.

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><p>Rachel gently pushed past Puck, making sure that he didn't topple over in his current state. She steeled herself and watched as her boyfriend Sam – or whatever he was to her now – came closer. She hastily brushed away any remaining tears and prayed that her eyes wouldn't look red. Puck was trying to look as imposing as he possibly could. He flexed his muscles and stood up straight, pushing his chest out. If Rachel had been looking his way, she definitely would have laughed at him.<p>

"What are you doing here?"

Her voice was colder than she had expected it to be. To have left her like this, for hours, waiting – Sam had done something terrible. She crossed her arms and willed herself not to cry. She didn't want to show her weakness.

Sam stopped before them, not bothering to so much as give Puck a second glance. He was dressed in his school clothes which made him stick out like a sore thumb among the crowd of elegant dress robes. Even Puck's black Muggle suit looked fancy in comparison.

The blonde boy was searching for the right words. His large mouth opened and closed several times, unsure of how to even begin.

"Looks like a goldfish," Puck slurred drunkenly, "Guppy mouthed prick."

Rachel sent the boy with the Mohawk a quick glare and turned back to face Sam. She was struggling to keep the tears back. He'd left her humiliated and alone at the biggest event of the school year. She hadn't had a date. Sure, she'd had Blaine and Kurt – and even a drunk Puck, if that counted – but not a _real_ date. She'd wanted the night to be magical and it definitely hadn't been.

"I _honestly_ have an explanation-" he started to say.

"You better, dickshit," the boy with the Mohawk muttered, "You lef' _my girl _all alone."

A tingle ran down Rachel's spine when she felt Puck wrap his arm around her and pull her close to his chest. She didn't resist him. He was warm and she felt safe there. More importantly, he hid her from everyone else in the Great Hall. They were slowly starting to crowd around the three students, fascinated with the new 'love triangle' of Hogwarts.

Sam went red. "Oh, so my girlfriend's _your _girl now? And what do you have to say about that, Rachel?"

She wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't show him her tears. "I don't know," she said honestly.

He shook his head. "I was just helping Professor-"

"Save it for the jury," Puck growled ridiculously, "I'll cut your balls-"

Rachel cringed, "Noah, please!"

The drunken boy chuckled and reached down to pinch her nose. "Sorry, baby," he slurred before looking back at Sam and muttering under his breath, "Motherfucker."

Just then Jesse St. James walked past, his eyes lighting up at the drama of the whole scene. "Wow, Richelle Merry!" He exclaimed, "You and your new boyfriend have something in common."

All of them glared at him and he smirked. "Really, Puckerman? Three Firewhiskys? You can't hold your liquor as well as you say you can!"

"Can it, fairy boy," Puck spat, "You may be talking but all I'm seein' is glitter flying out of your ass ho-"

"Noah!" Rachel admonished. She lowered her voice, "You really should have gone back to your dorm-"

"Listen, asshole," Sam finally spoke up, directing his attention to the boy with the Mohawk, "I just want to talk to Rachel-"

"That's it, bitch!" Puck yelled, untangling himself from Rachel and pushing the sleeves of his suit jacket up to his elbows. He was on the move, a stumbling, drunken ball of rage. Rachel didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "It's on like Donkey Kong!"

Jesse was at Rachel's side, chuckling as he sipped at his Butterbeer. "Your choice in men, Ricky, could be drastically improved. Who knew you were actually a paedophile?"

"Excuse me?" She hissed, exasperated as she watched Puck walk forwards, humming the _Rocky_ theme song at the top of his lungs. Sam was watching him with raised eyebrows, his arms crossed and his eyes wide.

"I mean, really, Richard Nixon, you're dating a twelve year old child."

_Richard Nixon? Really? _She could only stare at him. He slunk off into the crowd, his perfectly tousled locks held together by way too much gel. She wondered what she'd ever seen in him. When she turned back to the real problem at hand, her eyes fell upon a sleeping Puck, sprawled across the ground in the most ridiculous of positions. Sam looked completely lost.

"What the fuck, Puckerman?" Rachel heard from across the room. She span around, surprised, to see Santana Lopez standing behind her. "Three drinks? _Three?"_

The Latina surged forward, shoving Rachel out of the way. She stumbled and fell back into a waiting pair of arms. Suspecting Blaine or even Kurt, she whispered a small thankyou and righted herself. She watched as Santana yelled in Spanish at Puck, who didn't respond because, naturally, he'd passed out whilst on the way to murder Sam. Rachel assumed that she'd take care of him, regardless of the fact that she was currently telling him that she was going to castrate him for embarrassing her like this as soon as he woke up. She was about to leave when something stopped her.

"Can we talk?"

Rachel froze at the sound of the voice in her ear. Sam had caught her – not Blaine, not Kurt. She didn't want to talk with him. She couldn't-

"I think I deserve to explain myself," he said quietly, turning her to look at him. He was wearing a watery smile on his once charming face. She didn't know how to respond. Could she really listen to what he had to say? What could possibly have kept him away from her for so long?

"I don't know, Sam," she replied cautiously, "I think I've seen enough of you for one night."

He looked pained as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. "Rach, I-"

"What kept you? I don't get it. I don't understand why you didn't come tonight."

"As I was about to say before that _buffoon _started charging at me-"

"His name is Noah. Yes, he seems like a buffoon most of the time... but he's different when you get to know him," she paused and took a shaky breath before continuing, "I thought you really liked me but obviously you don't. I'm sick of being pushed around by everyone and I don't need anymore hassle in my life."

Sam looked as if he'd had a great revelation. He whispered something, although it was so quiet that it was impossible to hear over the loud music. Rachel looked royally pissed off. She raised her eyebrows and he knew he should speak up.

"You love him."

The words hit her like a punch in the face. She was about to scream out, "I do not!" when it hit her.

Rachel didn't love Puck. There was no way. But Noah…? They were practically different people, as she'd thought many times before. Could it be _possible_ to feel that way for someone she'd hated almost all of her life?

He'd broken her heart many times before. Back in first year when she'd crept up to him at the Gryffindor table and asked him if he'd like to be her boyfriend he'd rejected her cruelly in front of the whole school. He'd told her that she was a conniving bitch just outside the Great Hall only five or so months ago. He'd kissed Quinn in front of her in the library and avoided her for weeks afterward. Not to mention the time he had completely destroyed her Muggle Studies grade by screwing up their presentation, making it look as if they weren't a team.

But they _were_ a team, she realised. A very dysfunctional one - but a team all the same.

She remembered the times she'd caught a glimpse of the _real _Noah Puckerman. He'd punched Jesse in the face to defend her honour and helped her to hide from the teachers whilst she was still drunk. He'd showed her his secret place; the Quidditch supplies shed where he waited out his hangovers. He'd told her that he thought about his daughter everyday. That Beth made him human and he wanted her in his life – even though he couldn't have her. He'd fought with her boyfriend and also possibly lied to make him seem like a terrible person, just because he didn't like him. He'd said that she wasn't like other girls when he was completely sober and called her _his girl _all night, even if he_ was_ in fact completely off of his face.

Rachel's lips parted in thought. Could _she_ and _Noah Puckerman_ ever truly be together? She risked a quick glance at the self-proclaimed badass. He was still sprawled across the stone floor. He was now snoring, though, which she took as a good sign. It meant he was still alive and hadn't choked on his own vomit. Santana was still yelling at him.

She found herself wondering if he'd have ever admitted everything he had tonight if he hadn't been drinking. He probably wouldn't have, but that didn't bother her. Puck had always had problems with communicating exactly what he was feeling. He expressed anger by punching, sadness by punching and occasionally even happiness by punching.

Rachel hoped he didn't express _love_ by punching.

"I think you're right," she told Sam. He watched her carefully. He might not have been using her for sex, as Puck had told her, but he wasn't exactly perfect boyfriend material. He'd stood her up at the Graduation Ball for almost four hours without even trying to get the news to her that he would be late.

Sam sighed. "I don't know what he said about me, Rach, but I just want to say that I honestly _did _like you. Quite frankly, I just can't handle being his punching bag anymore. I shouldn't have to fear spending time around you, just because I might get jumped by a caveman."

She nodded slowly.

A lot had happened that night. The Graduation Ball would certainly be a large memory for her. If it was a good or a bad one, she was yet to decide.

"Besides, I, uh…" he paused.

"Yes, Sam?"

"I think I like someone else."

Rachel didn't know how she felt about that. She'd liked Sam – of course she had, he'd been the first boy to ever truly reciprocate her feelings – and she didn't like the idea of being so easily replaced. Still, she knew that she couldn't deal with him anymore. His absentmindedness and often his stupidity drove her slightly insane. She looked at him questioningly, willing him to go on.

His eyes flickered, landing on someone in the distance. Rachel spun around and followed his gaze; her own eyes falling on none other than Tina Cohen-Chang.

"You don't mind?" He asked her.

"No," she replied, turning back to face him. He wasn't looking at her, though. His eyes hadn't left the Gothic Asian girl, dancing with Mike, her black dress spiralling around her like a tornado. "I'm okay with it. Although, she is your best friend's date."

"I know it's wrong, but…" He tore his gaze away from Tina and met Rachel's eyes. They were red-rimmed and a little swollen. He licked his dry lips and swallowed. "Yeah. I guess this is it, then," he mumbled.

She could barely hear him over the music and Santana's cursing. "I guess it is."

He looked down, grimacing a little sheepishly. "Would you mind if I stayed here for a while? I- I want to go and introduce myself to her."

She forced herself to grimace back. "No. I'm heading back to bed, anyway. It's been a long night."

* * *

><p>The next morning Rachel walked by the Black Lake, picking up the Butterbeer and Firewhisky bottles littered across the grounds. It was the Prefect's job to spend Sunday cleaning up after the previous night.<p>

After she'd left the Ball, things had apparently gotten out of control. Blaine and Kurt had unknowingly walked in on a game of Strip Poker in the trophy room. They hadn't been allowed to leave unless they stripped down to their underwear and ran through the Great Hall. A little buzzed on Butterbeer, Blaine had hastily agreed, citing that it would be a good idea. He'd been photographed in his bare necessities by none other than Jacob Ben Israel - which Rachel found more than a little creepy. Kurt had politely declined, saying that he'd much rather try his luck and play poker with the others,. He ended up winning ten galleons without removing an article of his glamorous outfit – which included a Scottish kilt; a tribute to his new favourite place in the world, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Mercedes Jones had knocked over the ice sculpture of Salazar Slytherin when she'd gotten carried away booty-shaking. After that, Dumbledore had stepped out in his striped pyjamas and told everyone that it was time to go back to their dormitories and have a good nights rest. Of course, the old man was not ignorant. He'd winked just before he left – which told everyone to move on to the lake if they wished to continue their partying.

And move onto the lake they had.

Rachel bent over and grasped a Blishen's bottle in her hand, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Scowling, she shoved it in the rubbish bag. The smell of vomit was pungent in the air. Almost gagging at the odour, she whipped out her wand and uttered a quick cleansing charm. Annoyed, she shoved it back in her pocket. She'd already tried to use Accio multiple times. It appeared that someone had cast an anti-Accio charm for a good laugh. She'd be picking up rubbish manually all day.

"You look like shit, Rach."

She jumped at the sound of his voice and dropped her garbage bag – the contents of which fell out onto the grass. She resisted the urge to groan as she bent down to slowly start scooping it back inside. Luckily, she was wearing gloves.

He crouched down opposite her and started to help her.

It didn't help that he was so close to her. Strangely, the idea of just reaching out and kissing him crossed her mind. But she smelt like alcohol and vomit and something that was familiar to urine. She hadn't smelt this way when she'd stepped out of the Dungeons over an hour ago. It had happened gradually over the time she'd spent outside soaking in the disgusting toxins.

When she risked a glance at him, she wondered if she had imagined last night. He looked perfectly fine. In fact, he looked as if he hadn't passed out in the middle of the dance floor at all. Maybe he couldn't handle his liquor as good as he'd apparently told everyone else - but no one could deny that Noah Puckerman knew how to handle a hangover.

"Sorry 'bout last night," he muttered, careful not to look her in the eye. His words confirmed her suspicions. He remembered everything. "I didn't know what the fuck I was sayin' half the time."

She didn't say anything. They finished scooping the spilled contents back into the bag and stood up at the same time. He shoved his hands in his pockets, which she thought was a little gross. He hadn't been wearing gloves the whole time.

"I heard you and your toy boy broke up."

She nodded. Sam was a sore subject. Kurt had remarked that he'd seen him shoving his tongue down Tina Cohen-Chang's throat later that night. She hadn't pictured Tina as that kind of girl, especially considering she'd been totally in love with Mike seven hours previous.

"He wasn't going to use me for sex," she replied, looking anywhere but at him. She'd admitted to herself last night that she was a lost cause. Noah Puckerman would never return her interest. She was going to wait out graduation and move on with her life, bury herself in New York and forget about anything that had a Mohawk.

Puck shifted awkwardly. "Yeah, I knew that."

"Then why'd you fight him on the Quidditch pitch?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose before running a hand through his hair. "I dunno, Rach. I just needed to punch the guy."

"You _do _seem to like punching people."

She caught a glimpse of his trademark smirk. "Nah, only douche lords."

She smiled shortly and went on with her work. He followed her along the edge of the lake, occasionally slipping on mud as he tried to keep up. He placed a bottle in her garbage bag every once in a while. Rachel wasn't sure whether or not she wanted him there.

"So, I just want you to know that you shouldn't feel _obligated_ or any of that shit-" he paused, struggling for the right words. His expression of confusion was almost comical. He gave up. "I don't get how you do it," he said, dejectedly.

"Do what?" She asked.

"Use big words all the fuckin' time."

"I'm the human dictionary," she said lightly, "I don't have to try."

He actually chuckled. They moved across the grass, silently enjoying one another's company - but not the bitter smell that surrounded them.

"So," he said finally, "I guess what I'm tryna' say, Rach, is that you don't have to feel like… like… Fuck. I don't know how to say it."

She wasn't getting her hopes up. She told herself that continually.

He crinkled his nose with annoyance. He'd struggled with words his whole life. He didn't need that now. "I'm… I… uh…"

"Quinn spoke to me last night," she interrupted him.

"Really?' He asked, relieved to be temporarily saved from his awkward stuttering, "What'd you two talk about?"

She shrugged. "Us. You."

He swallowed. "Beth?"

"Yes," she replied, "She told me that she believes you both did the right thing in giving her up for adoption."

He was back to being unsure of what to say. "Yeah," he muttered, lamely.

"You know…"

"Yeah, Rach?"

"You can visit her whenever you want to. Maybe, you could wait until after graduation and take a short holiday. I'm sure your mother would drive-"

"I can't."

She stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him. "Why not?"

He shook his head. "I can't ever see her."

"I-I don't understand."

"You wouldn't, Rach. You've gotta be a parent to understand." She didn't say anything. He would continue without her, she knew. "If I saw her – just once, even – I don't think I could ever leave her again."

Rachel wished she hadn't brought up the topic. "I'm sorry, Noah-"

"No. S'okay," he chuckled dryly, "I just- Like, Beth is Broadway for me, if you wanna think about it that way. I've always had one dream; to not be anything like my own dad. But I've got a lil' girl out there and she doesn't have a daddy and I failed her on that. Ya know?"

"I don't believe that you failed her. You did what was best for her."

He was fighting to keep his emotions in check. "Yeah."

Rachel wasn't sure what else to do, so she set her cleaning equipment down on the lake's edge and sat beside it. Puck flopped down next to her; not sitting close enough or far away enough for her to decide whether or not he loved her back.

"I know a lot about dreams."

He laughed, "No shit."

Gently, she elbowed him. "No need to be crass."

He chuckled again.

"Anyway, as I was saying," she said primly, tucking her knees against her chest. She tried to not think about the fact that someone could have possibly vomited where they were sitting. "If you don't want to be like your father then you need to_ actively_ make sure you aren't. You can't just hope that you don't turn out that way."

He shrugged. "I do more than hope-"

"Was your father a sleazy, promiscuous man-whore who didn't care about his grades?"

They sat in silence for a few moments. Her stomach was twisting with nerves and she wondered how she'd ever sat next to him without feeling that way before. She didn't want to look ugly. She was trying to her best to impress him, even though deep down she knew that they'd go their seperate ways after graduation. She'd become an actress on Broadway and discover fame and fortune; he'd work part-time at some sort of store, trying to earn enough money to pay the rent.

"Alright, Rach. I get it. I gotta stop being such an ass all the time," he said finally.

She smiled and pat his back before she stood up again. The brief contact sent electric currents up her arm. She blushed and was glad when he didn't notice. "I'm glad you understand me. Now, I have to get back to work, so unless you want to help…?" She trailed off, hoping that he would react to her offer positively.

Quickly, he shook his head. "I _would_-"

_Oh. _She physically darkened.

"No, seriously-" he persisted, playfully nudging her shoulder with his arm, "I _would_ stay and help but I've got a Quidditch practice to run."

"I thought that Hufflepuff knocked Gryffindor out of the competition."

"Oh, they did," he said nonchalantly, "But I organised a practice anyway. I've gotta feeling that the Hufflepuff team are going to come down with a mysterious case of the Measles just before the final tomorrow. They'll have to put our team through."

Rachel didn't doubt for a second that Puck was planning on inflicting the mysterious illness himself.

"'Sides, I ain't gonna say that I spent the majority of my last match ever in a hospital bed. I'm playing for real this time," he joked, smirking.

"Then it'll be Slytherin versus Gryffindor."

"And Gryffindor will easily win."

She pretended to be appalled. "Want to bet on that?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Um, because you might lose?"

He scoffed. "Three sickles that we'll win by miles."

She paled. "I didn't mean _real _gambling. I mean, w-we're underage, Noah."

"Come on, Rach. Lighten up," he said playfully, "Plus, your birthday's the day after the match, right?"

Her cheeks coloured. _How had he known that?_ Reluctantly - and only to impress him - she challenged him, "You're on."

They were grinning at one another when Puck remembered what he'd been trying to say before. "Oh, and Rach…"

She was picking up her cleaning equipment, grinning like a fool. "Yes?" She almost whispered. Her stomach was a tight ball of nerves, contorting in ways she hadn't known possible. She hated herself a little bit for turning into such a wanton.

"About what I was tryna say… Please don't feel like I own you or nothin'. You're not my girl, alright? I was just being a sexist pig."

Her stomach dropped. Although he hadn't meant it to be cruel, the words _you're not my girl _were like a crushing blow straight to the heart. She faked a smile. "S-sure."

Puck's eyes travelled the distance between them to land on her face. She hoped he couldn't see her devastated disappointment. If he could - well, she would probably _die _from embarrassment.

"Great. You're a cool dude, Rach," he smirked. He shoved his hands back in the pockets of his jeans and retreated backwards towards the castle. She stared after him, cursing Sam Evans for enlightening her on her crush on Puck.

_She was a cool dude._ She didn't exactly understand what that meant, but she guessed that Noah Puckerman didn't love her the way she loved him.

Annoyed, she kicked a nearby Blishen's bottle into the Black Lake. Normally, she would never have done such a thing. But Puck had changed her. She swore she heard a rumble in the waters below. Maybe the Merpeople and the giant squid enjoyed a little alcohol every now and then, too.


	16. How Is It Different?

A/N: Hi all. Sorry for the wait. Your reviews are very, very appreciated and I am overwhelmed by the amount I have for this story. So, without further ado, here's the next chapter of _Stupid Ambitions For A Witch._

* * *

><p>The Great Hall was packed to the brim by the time she made her way to dinner. She was exhausted; her feet were sore and his arms shook a little – but she had made it through the day. The Black Lake had been almost picture perfect by the time she was through with it.<p>

Rachel made her way to the Hufflepuff table, where she spied Blaine, Kurt, Tina and Brittany sitting in a close-knit group. She wondered what that was all about. Last time she had checked, Tina was _her _friend. She didn't know Blaine or Kurt. Even stranger was Brittany's presence. Rachel glanced at the Slytherin table on her way over to them and noticed Santana Lopez sending her an evil glare. Normally, she would have been terrified. But, surprisingly, she found that she really didn't care.

"If they got married then they could have really cute Jewish babies," Brittany was saying, "And they could name one after me."

Rachel blanched and stopped walking. She tried to remain silent and listen carefully to the conversation her friends were sharing.

Kurt giggled, "Oh! Can you imagine ze look on 'er face eef she 'eard zat?"

Unbeknownst to them, if they turned around they would probably have seen said face. Rachel was bright red, her eyes wide and her mouth open in thought. Were they talking about-?

"You guys are batshit," Blaine drawled, shoving sandwiches onto his plate, "Rachel would kill you if she heard you saying all of this stuff."

"Please." Kurt rolled his eyes and playfully slapped his boyfriend on the shoulder. "Puckleberry eez a vay of life. Far better than ze, err, Samchel or ze St. Berry, _oui_?"

Brittany nodded enthusiastically. "Samchel doesn't even make sense. I mean, I still don't understand why he showed up at the dance to just brutally slaughter her."

"Dump, Brit, _dump_. Not slaughter," Blaine supplied helpfully.

"Same thing."

Tina shrank down into her chair, her cheeks red. "I f-f-feel really bad."

Kurt and Brittany shook their heads as if Tina had done nothing wrong. "Don't vorry about eet. 'Ow else were Rachel and Puck going to get together?"

Blaine was shoving sandwiches in his mouth when he noticed his best friend standing behind them. "Oh, shit."

Rachel placed her hands on her hips and watched as the four students looked back at her with wide eyes. "What are you guys talking about?" She asked, trying not to show her embarrassment. The redness on her cheeks might have been a clear giveaway, though.

"Nothing," Tina and Blaine said at the same time Brittany and Kurt chimed, "True love."

The Jewess sat down at the table, next to Blaine. She glared at him, pointedly. "I told you that I don't like Noah- I mean, _Puck."_

All of them rolled their eyes – even Tina. "R-Rachel," the Asian girl stuttered, "It's c-clear to us all."

Rachel blushed. "I don't see how. I don't like him, okay?"

At that point in time, Puck and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch squad entered the Great Hall. She lowered her head, but he'd already seen her. He grinned before he turned back and spoke a few quick words to Finn, who nodded dazedly - his eyes were greedily examining the assorted sandwiches arranged on the Gryffindor table. She forced herself to look away.

"Uh, is he… is he coming over here?" Blaine whispered, astonished. He elbowed Rachel in the ribs, a little too roughly because he was agitated. "Rach, why is he _swaggering _toward us?"

She tried to act calmly. Inside her stomach, butterflies seemed to be doing back flips. Trying to appear unfazed, she reached for the jug and poured herself a glass of Pumpkin Juice. She took several large gulps from it, ignoring the excited chattering around her. Tina, not wanting to feel awkward anymore, slipped away without as much as a goodbye.

"For Prada's sake," Kurt murmured, "Let zis go vell."

He was less than three metres away. "Be quiet," Rachel muttered, fixing her hair as best she could, "Act normal, please, for _once_ in your lives."

Puck pushed his hand through his Mohawk as he walked toward the table, and Rachel swore she heard Kurt sigh. Brittany's eyes were alight. "I wish Lord Tubbington had lived to see this."

"Brit," Blaine insisted, "Your cat isn't dead."

"I know. I'm a physic. I'm currently ten years in the future. Puck and Rachel just had a baby girl."

Puck raised his eyebrows from where he had paused. He was standing directly behind a very flustered Kurt and facing Rachel and Blaine on the opposite side of the table. He seemed to have heard Brittany's last sentence. "What?" He asked, slowly, as if he had somehow heard her wrong.

Rachel wanted someone to run up to her and scream, _"Stupefy!" _so she wouldn't have to face the awkwardness of the situation anymore. "Oh, don't worry about her," she mumbled instead, "She's had too much…"

"Sandwiches," Kurt finished for her, lamely. Blaine shrugged and resumed shoving food into his mouth.

Puck eyed them as if they were all crazy. Then, noticing Brittany's presence, he asked, "Brit. What're you doing here?"

"Don't be silly, Daddy Puck. I'm here to see the baby," she cooed in reply, her eyes crossed.

Rachel groaned and let her head fall onto the wooden table as Kurt clapped gleefully. "Vat's eet's name?" He questioned eagerly.

"It's something… Jewish. I don't know, I don't speak Hebrew. But they're dancing around the Hospital bed in those little hat things-"

"That is highly offensive," Rachel snapped, "And racist."

"Aw, come on, Rach," Blaine said, his mouth full of bread, "She doesn't know that."

"It's true. I don't even know where I am half of the time."

Puck shook his head. "Anyway," he muttered, confused, "I just came here to tell Rach that the _measles are in effect."_

She looked up, her own face pulled into an expression of confusion, and asked, "What?"

"You know," he mumbled, "My plan?"

Oh. The plan to make the Hufflepuff team too sick to play in the Quidditch Final the following week. Gryffindor would play Slytherin, then.

"Rachel," Brittany whispered, "Do you have _herpes?"_

"What?" The brunette exclaimed, appalled. "No! Why would you even _think _that?"

"Well, one time Santana told me that when you get red on your-"

"Whoa. You should stop talkin' now," Puck cautioned, slapping the confused girl on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "'Sides, I gotta go and make sure the plan continues on the way I want it too. Finn is far too fuckin' thick to remember what to do next. See ya round, Rach."

He was gone. Rachel watched him go, her brown eyes sparkling only slightly. He'd singled her out. He'd come to talk to _her_, regardless of how much that could have trashed his reputation.

"I zink zat zis ees ze beginning of something 'orribly beautiful, no?" Kurt asked, reaching for Blaine's hand. Blaine took it and smiled, only a few bread crumbs still on his face. Brittany watched them in adoration.

"Okay," Blaine said, looking into his boyfriend's eyes, "I can understand your obsession with… _Puckleberry. _But we've got to stop calling it that. It sounds like food and I'm hungry enough as it is, so let's just call them Puck and Rachel to save me from turning into a cannibal, alright?"

Rachel seriously considered hiding herself out of embarrassment.

* * *

><p><em>To our little Princess,<em>

_It is now your last month at Hogwarts. I remember my seven years there and I'm not lying at all when I tell you that they were some of the greatest of my life. So, enjoy these last four weeks while you can. Your N.E.W.T's start in two weeks, and I know that you'll be studying as hard as you possibly can for those. You are, no doubt, going to exceed my expectations. _

_I just want to let you know that we are _so_ proud of you, Rachel. Although at times your father and I don't understand your choice to pursue a Muggle career, just know that we love you no matter what – and that we will support you through anything you choose to do. _

_Good luck, sweetheart, although you probably won't need it. _

_Love your daddy, Hiram._

_PS: If Barbra looks a little larger than usual, it is because Leroy has been feeding her Chocolate Frogs again. I know, I know. It's simply disgusting! I've told him time and time again to not do it, but he won't listen to me! He actually thinks that owls _like_ chocolate. And this, honey, is why your father is crazy. I'm so sorry._

Rachel stared, amused, at the letter in her hands. Barbra was perched on her window sill, nibbling ferociously at the curtains there. She wondered if the owl was suffering from chocolate cravings.

She sat on her bed, staring at the papers surrounding her in a halo of white. They were her application forms to a variety of Muggle Performing Arts Colleges – but none of them really mattered to her except Julliard. She wanted to be accepted there more than anything in the world.

A warm feeling settled in her stomach as she thought about her father's letter. He had finally accepted the fact that she was going to go to _Julliard. New York,_ she thought, _here I come._

She was about to start filling in the application forms when the dormitory door slammed open, revealing a stricken-looking Santana Lopez. Rachel jumped, terrified, as the Latina stormed into the small bathroom at the far end of the circular room. After a few seconds of shocked silence, Rachel untangled her crossed legs – careful not to disturb the sheets of paper on her quilt – and made her way over to the bathroom door.

Santana had been her roommate since their first year at Hogwarts, when they'd first moved into the dormitories. She had hated Rachel on sight and they'd hardly spoken a sentence to one another that didn't involve Rachel's nose being insulted since.

Never, _ever, _in the seven years that Rachel had known her, had she ever seen Santana cry.

"Santana?" She called, pressing her head against the wooden door. Inside, she could hear muffled sobs. "Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, but Rachel didn't know what else to ask.

"No. Are you a fucking idiot or something?" Was all she got in reply. The words were shaky and weak-sounding, but Rachel still had reason to be wary of them. She was about to go and pack her application forms into a neat pile and stuff them back into her trunk when she heard Santana say something else.

"I just don't understand anything anymore."

Rachel didn't know what Santana had to be miserable about. She was one of the most popular girls in school. No one messed with her, in fact, she messed with them. She wasn't ugly – in fact, she was very attractive, and she seemed to have a very good friend in Brittany.

Rachel paused. Silently, she recalled that morning in the Great Hall. Santana had sent her a glare when she'd noticed Brittany sitting with her friends. There was something else in that glare – something Rachel hadn't recognised at the time. That was it. Jealousy.

Rachel was suddenly swamped with memories of Santana. She remembered the soft sniffling she often heard late at night – the sniffling she had always thought had come from one of the other girls. She remembered the quiet way she dressed herself in the mornings. The way she seemed so weak sometimes when she thought no one else could see her.

Then, Rachel remembered the way Santana looked at Brittany. Suddenly, she realised that that was the way _she _had looked at Jesse, and then Sam, and then… Puck. Or Noah. Whoever he was.

"Santana?' She called again, more gently this time. "What happened?"

There was no reply. Then, "I'm just sick of feeling like this. Different, you know."

Rachel nodded. She had felt different almost all of her life. Except, Santana hid her differences, and Rachel flaunted them.

"I feel like shit all the time," Santana whispered, her nose obviously blocked with snot and tears by the sound of her voice, "I don't want to keep feeling like this."

Santana loved Brittany.

"I don't know if it's obvious or not. That I'm different. It must be, though, because Puckerman rejected me again this afternoon. I don't know why. I mean, I'm still fucking hot. It's not like you can tell by looking at me."

Rachel tried not to let Santana's words make her happy. _Noah had rejected her advances. _She couldn't let her own selfish joy take over at that point in time. The girl behind the bathroom door was in a dark place, much darker than Rachel had ever known, and she needed her help. Sure, Santana had been nothing but a ruthless bitch to her, but Rachel was all about forgiveness.

"I don't even think I smell like a golf course," The Latina paused. Then, "Rachel? Do I smell like a golf course?"

Rachel didn't understand. "No," she said, anyway, "You don't smell like a golf course..."

"I sort of know how you feel now," Santana admitted, after a few minutes of silence. "Because everyone rejects you all the time."

Rachel tried not to let those words hurt her. Santana was clueless as to what she had just said. She didn't understand that she had been offensive, and Rachel wasn't in the mood to correct the girl's moral code. She just wanted to let her know that what she was wasn't _wrong. _

"Have you told her yet?"

She was glad that she didn't have to clarify what she had just asked. Santana seemed to understand without any explanations. "No," she muttered, "Why should I? I don't think she feels the same way."

Rachel shrugged. "Still, it's good to be honest, Santana."

There was a cold, dry laugh from the other side of the door. "Bullshit. Lying has got me everything I have today."

_Maybe, _Rachel thought.

"Besides, I don't see you going around and declaring your love for everyone. Puckerman, especially."

Rachel forced herself not to directly deny it. Santana had to be brave, so she would be, too. "How did you know about that?" She asked instead.

"Come on," the other girl said dryly, "It's obvious. Your eyes go all _gaga _whenever anyone mentions his name."

"I didn't know that you listened in on my conversations."

"Yeah, well, it's pretty hard not too. Your voice is pretty fucking loud."

Rachel ignored her. "It's different."

"Why?" Santana spat, "Because you like _boys?"_

"No-"

"Then how is it different, Rachel? You tell me that."

She couldn't. She couldn't explain it. "I don't know," she said, lamely.

"Exactly. Because it is isn't different."

Rachel listened as the girl on the other side of the door sniffled and dried her eyes. "Now, can you leave me the fuck alone?" She snapped, "I don't take advice from hypocrites."

* * *

><p>The day of the Quidditch Final rolled around fast. Amid exam preparations, Rachel hardly had any time to think about it. So, when she was finally on her way across the oval towards the Quidditch pitch, she wasn't even sure who she was barracking for. Surely, she should have been vying for Slytherin to take away the trophy. That was <em>her <em>house, after all.

But then there was Gryffindor. They were the underdogs, no matter what Puck had told her. Still, the bet was on. Three sickles if she won, minus three sickles if she lost.

Hufflepuff had been diagnosed as unfit to play the match. Rachel wasn't exactly sure _how _Puck had given them the Measles - especially because he'd failed Potions after their fifth year - but he had definitely done it well. She should have known he could, though, because sabotage was his forte.

Kurt was wearing a combination of both Slytherin and Gryffindor colours when she joined him in the stands. He was all smiles and praise for the weather, which was actually quite nice. Blaine, however was in a sour mood. He had been stoked that Hufflepuff had made the final – and then crushed when they'd been told they weren't aloud to play. He wore yellow and bronze from head to toe, and when Rachel tried to speak to him, he held his hand up as if she were the enemy. No one could console him.

"Oh, don't vorry about poor Blaine today. 'E ees in a terrible mood," Kurt said to her, smiling. She smiled too. His attitude was contagious.

The match was preceded by an inspiring speech from Dumbledore, a performance by the choir, and the usual lecture on fair play by Madam Hooch. At some point during these events, Brittany made their way over to them, sporting her Ravenclaw colours.

Rachel squirmed uncomfortably. She looked over at the group of Slytherin's – not four metres away – and spied Santana glaring at their group. She wished Brittany would return to her. Things would be a lot easier and less intimidating for them all.

The match started quickly. Slytherin were a formidable force – after all, they had been the leading Quidditch team for the last ten years. Out of the last ten premierships, they had lost only two. To Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, respectively.

Rachel found herself cheering along with the rest of the Slytherins when David Karofsky slugged the Quaffle past Quinn Fabray, in all of her red and gold glory, and scored the first goal of the match. From where she sat, she could see Puck's scowl as he spat profanities under his breath. While part of her wished he wouldn't do that, the other part told her that she'd be sad if he didn't. His swearing was a part of him. A very large part that could very well be diminished, but a part all the same.

It was half time before she knew it. Slytherin and Gryffindor were participating in a loud, raucous cheering battle in the stands. Somewhere, she could hear Santana threatening to cut a Gryffindors throat out if he so much as _waved that lion flag at her_ _one more time._

Rachel found her eyes drawn to Puck as he bashed a bludger at the Slytherin Seeker. He seemed different when he played Quidditch. He was relentless, fearsome. Slytherin players stayed out of his way when he flew by them on his broomstick. Gryffindor players look at him with respect. He was an amazing captain, she realised. When he had the time to spare, he flew by his team members and gave them short shouts of praise and encouragement.

Not before long, Gryffindor had taken the lead.

The red and gold section of the stands was out of control. They sang their praise for Puck and the rest of his team – reminding every other house that they were just as obnoxious as they were brave.

Rachel was growing competitive. She was yelling at the Slytherins to, 'Pick up the pace!" and, "Pass it to David! _To David, _you moronic excuse for a human being!"

Kurt stared at her, shell-shocked, for the last ten minutes of the match. She was uncontrollable by then. Her hands gripped the railing at the edge of the stands, her knuckles turning white. Blaine was still depressed. He'd gathered his Hufflepuff beanie and pulled it down over his head so that it covered his eyes. He didn't speak to anyone.

It was an hour after the match started when Madam Hooch's voice echoed over the P.A and announced the winner: Gryffindor.


	17. Finn Hudson, Cockblock Extroadinaire

A/N: Another chapter, the story's nearly finished! Still another few chapters, though. _Please review._

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><p>Rachel stared, her lips parted in both shock and awe, as Noah Puckerman lifted the Quidditch Cup above his head. His team and the Gryffindors from the stands – who had come running out to meet their champions – had hoisted him up and were currently moving him around the pitch in a joyous fashion.<p>

Gently, Kurt's hand came to rest of her shoulder. She looked up, confused, and held his gaze. He looked solemn. "Rachel," he said solemnly, _dramatically_, "Eet vill be okay."

She looked back down at the pitch and listened to the grumbling of the Slytherins nearby. She wanted to join them. She really did. She'd wanted to beat Puck. She'd wanted to win the bet.

She didn't exactly know when she'd started caring about the outcome of the match – but now that it was over, she knew one thing for sure; losing hurt.

Kurt lifted his hand from her shoulders and stood by her side, clutching the railing in his hands as she did herself. Her knuckles were white. Puzzled, she glanced at them. When had that happened?

"You started yelling. 'Ow you yell that loud, I do not know," Kurt murmured. "Anyway, match eez over now. We can go back inside, finally."

But Rachel didn't want to go back inside. She wanted to complain. And yell. And maybe cry. She let go of the railing and span around to face Blaine. He had his beanie pulled over his eyes and his hands on his ears. He was just as miserable as she was.

"I'm going to stay here with Blaine for a while," she replied, "You can go if you want too, though."

Kurt obviously wanted to go. He had lost the bright attitude he had had an hour ago. The match had drained it out of him by making him stressful and anxious. Rachel had been hard to control. He'd tried to stop her from yelling and threatening the Gryffindors, but he had not been loud or strong enough to do so easily. Quietly, he nodded and began to make his way back to the castle.

Rachel took her time to sit by Blaine. She glanced back at the oval – onto which most of the spectators had spilled – and scowled. Since when had she become so competitive?

"I thought you'd be down there trying to rip the Gryffindors to shreds," he said glumly when he felt her sit down by his side. He reluctantly pulled his beanie up, and she was rewarded with his eye contact. "I never knew you liked Quidditch this much."

"Oh, I don't," Rachel replied, "I don't like it at all."

Blaine scoffed. "You have to like it a little bit. You yelled too much to not want to win."

She paused. Then, "I-I've got a bet with someone."

"Puck?"

She glanced at him, confused, and asked, "How did you guess?"

"Well, no one else could convince you to actually gamble, Rach."

She looked down at the pitch again. She could see the boy with the Mohawk cheering loudly, his fist pumping up into the air. She didn't want to roll her eyes, but she did anyway. It was what she would have done at the beginning of the year.

"How much do you owe him?"

"Three sickles."

"Well, it's not a fucking fortune," he chuckled, "At least your team actually got into the final. I suspect Puck performed some sort of sabotage to get mine too sick to play."

Rachel squirmed uncomfortably. "Maybe," she mumbled.

Normally, she would have dobbed Puck in for his wrong doings. Sabotage was wrong. In all honesty, Gryffindor shouldn't have won that day. And they could still lose. Rachel held the secret that could destroy all of their happiness. She could do it. She could tell on them. Slytherin would win by default, she supposed.

If she were a true Slytherin that was what she would have done. But strangely, a little part of Gryffindor had wiggled its way into her heart. She wouldn't do it.

Blaine made his excuses and returned to the caste not five minutes later. Rachel wasn't ready to do that yet. She watched, alone in the stands, as the celebrations on the pitch died down. She hoped that Puck would turn around, look up and see her. In the end, that was what she was waiting for.

But he didn't. He was carried off back to the castle, too, where he would no doubt drink stolen Firewhisky and delight in his unfair victory with the rest of the students. Rachel sat there for a while longer, staring at the now empty pitch, and wondering if she should approach him.

Tomorrow, maybe. Eighteen tomorrow.

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><p>It was no surprise when she woke up and didn't feel any different on her birthday. She may have just become an adult, but she still felt like a silly school girl. And that was what she would remain to be for the next two weeks.<p>

She dressed herself in her uniform without talking to the other girls in her dormitory, as she had always done. As she pulled her tie over her head, her eyes darted to her trunk. It would be packed and then unpacked for the last time, soon enough.

Inside it were the completed college applications. She hadn't sent them off yet, which she knew was stupid. But she wasn't ready. They were due in two weeks, so she had plenty of time. She would send them in a few days.

She was pulling on her shoes when she saw Santana hovering nearby, watching her with a solemn expression on her face. "Hi," she said, quietly.

Rachel sent her a watery smile. "Hello, Santana."

"I just wanted to say happy birthday," the Latina started, "And sorry for, uh… being a bitch to you when you were only trying to help me the other day."

Rachel nodded and stood up from where she had sat on her mattress. "It's okay," she said, fluffing her pillows, "I can't pretend to know what you're going through right now."

"Thanks," the other girl grimaced.

Santana was making her way out the door when Lauren Zizes – the only other person present – lifted her head from her wrestling magazine and grunted, "What could _you_ possibly be going through, Lopez?"

Rachel pretended to be extremely interested in getting her pillows in the right position. Santana had stayed by the door that lead out to the common room and was currently struggling for the rights words. Her struggle was only short, though, because she'd always had a sharp wit. "Man Hands here was just referring to the fact that she can't possibly know what its like to have friends," she spat, not looking Rachel in the eye. Her voice was as harsh as it had always been, but Rachel hadn't expected her to treat her any differently. Santana wouldn't tell anyone her secret – at least not until her Hogwarts glory days were over.

Lauren laughed, although it sounded more like a grunt. "True," she agreed, "And I'm much more talented than her."

Blaine, Kurt, Tina and surprisingly, Brittany, ambushed Rachel with a rather loud and incredibly embarrassing rendition of 'Happy Birthday' at breakfast that morning. She took it well, laughing in all the right places and blushing when it was needed. They pulled her into a group hug afterwards which made her smile so wide that she thought her face was going to break in half.

Their gifts were all very similar; candies from Honeydukes and books from various bookstores in Hogsmeade. It was Kurt's present, however, that stood out the most. It was an unauthorised biography on Barbra Streisand, her idol. She squealed when she received it and hugged the French boy so tightly that he complained she was going to ruin the hard work he'd put into customising his uniform that morning.

Classes rushed by in a blur. Most of the time was spent revising heavily for the upcoming N.E.W.T examinations. Rachel felt adequately prepared so she treated herself to gossiping with Blaine for the whole of their Potions lesson. He had overcome his 'Quidditch Depression' – a term coined by his boyfriend, Kurt – and was excitedly chattering about how he was going to apply to be a sports columnist for the _Daily Prophet _as soon as he was handed his Hogwarts diploma. Rachel didn't doubt for a second that he would get the job because he had always had a keen eye for Quidditch. The employers there would be insane not to hire him.

The school day ended without as much as one exciting event. She was a little disappointed, actually, when Jacob Ben-Israel ignored her in the corridor and continued his pursuit of Quinn Fabray. Since when had she become old news? Oh, she realised, when she and Sam had broken up.

Speaking of Sam, she had seen him only once or twice since the dance. They were civil to one another but it was always awkward. He had never acted further on his attraction to Tina. She thought it was for the best because as civil as they were to one another, she really didn't want him around all the time. Besides, Tina had admitted to crushing on his friend Mike, who had originally been her date to the Graduation Ball.

It was when Rachel was making her way down to dinner that night when she felt a large hand wrap around her upper arm and gently pull her into the shadows of an empty hallway. She struggled and kicked out, successfully making contact with the person's shin.

"Shit, Rach," she heard him hiss, "It's me."

She jumped, her heart fluttering against her ribcage, and stared up at Puck. He was rubbing his shin with his hand, his face twisted into an expression of pain. "Merlin's beard," she mumbled, "I'm sorry, Noah."

"'S'okay. I expected you to fight me off. I just didn't know you could kick so fuckin' hard," he grumbled.

She looked him up and down and noticed a small box in his hand. Feeling nervous, she forced herself to look away. He realised her small grin was directed at him and grinned back at her, his free hand falling from his shin as he straightened up. "Anyway," he said quietly, so quietly that his voice made her shiver, "Happy birthday."

He held the small box out to her waiting hands and watched as she untied the tiny blue ribbon, unable to control the smile lighting up her features. Her smile was infectious. He found himself mimicking her. She finished untying the ribbon and shoved it into the pocket of her cloak. Her hands shaking only slightly, she lifted the lid and stared at an elegant golden chain complete with a small star pedant. She held her breath as her eyes flickered to land on his grinning face. "This is for me?" She whispered.

"Naw, it's for some other girl's birthday, I was just pointlessly showing you it," he joked. Then, watching as her finger gently traced the outline of the star, he said, "It's yours, Rach. I'm real fuckin' glad I got to know you this year."

She smiled. The necklace didn't look like real gold, but she didn't mind at all. It was special. It was from Puck – no, from Noah.

"I know you're gonna be great when you're on Broadway. No matter what anyone else at this school says, you're a star," he said sheepishly. She couldn't take her eyes off of his, which she knew was dangerous because he could easily see the feelings she held for him if he looked close enough. She couldn't help it, though. "Some people might think you've got stupid ambitions-" Rachel couldn't believe he knew that word, "- but I think you can do it. You aren't meant to stay unknown. You're gonna be famous."

He was struggling with his words, which she found endearing. She felt the necklace, cool and smooth under her fingertips, and remembered Santana's words; _I don't take advice from hypocrites. _Was she a hypocrite? She believed whole-heartedly that Santana should admit her feelings to Brittany, but was that hypocritical when she was too afraid to tell Puck about hers?

"Will you help me put this on?" She found herself whispering despite her internal struggle. There was only two weeks left at Hogwarts. She could deal with two weeks of embarrassment if he rejected her advances. She dealt with embarrassment almost every day.

Silently, Puck nodded. He took the box from her hands and retrieved the necklace from within, watching the girl before him as she turned around and held her hair up. She saw his hands drape the necklace over her neck and felt them, hot against her skin, as he struggled with the clasp. It was over too quickly, she realised, as she span back around to face him. He wore a smirk that made her think that maybe he already knew why she was so jittery around him.

"You owe me three sickles," he said instead.

She rolled her eyes. It was so _Puck_ to ruin a moment like that with something so petty. She shoved her hand inside her pocket and produced the three silver coins. "Although you don't really deserve them, a bet is a bet," she said as she handed them over. He took them from her and she had to try not to smile shyly when his hand brushed hers. "You cheated, Noah. It wasn't fair."

"I know," he shrugged, "But it was badass."

They waited in silence for a few moments. Rachel found herself looking anywhere but at the boy with the Mohawk. She glanced at the paintings hanging on the walls overheard, the inhabitants of which made silly kissing faces at her. She hoped that Puck wouldn't turn around and see them making fun of their exchange. He would surely accuse them of being perverts or something equally ridiculous.

"Why did you do it?" She asked him, quietly. She didn't want him to go. She had to keep their conversation going. It was the most exciting part of her day so far.

Puck had obviously forgotten what they were talking about. He was holding the box in his hands, playing with the smooth surface of the lid. "Huh?"

"Why did you give the Hufflepuff team the Measles? And how?"

"I dunno," he replied, "I've wanted to win the premiership since my first year. It wasn't until third year that I was accepted on the team, though, but since then I've tried to get Gryffindor the cup. It was worth it. And how did I do it? Well, a magician never reveals his secrets."

She ignored his joke. "You could have gotten into the finals honestly. You ruined your chances when you fought Sam on the pitch."

"Yeah, well, I just didn't like the guy," he said bluntly, "He's a douche lord."

Rachel found herself laughing at his comment. "I guess."

He looked down at her, a shy smirk etched on his face. "And you were his girlfriend, you know? I couldn't _not_ punch him."

She hid her own shy smile by not looking at him. "No. I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know why you couldn't _not _punch him." Her words were bold, she knew. but she would finally get her answer. Did Puck feel the same way? She'd convinced herself long ago that he would never reciprocate her desires. But there he stood, looking just as embarrassed as she felt, having just given her a present more meaningful than Kurt's Barbra Streisand biography.

Puck couldn't look at her either. "I liked you, Rach. Like, a fuckin' lot. I didn't know that, though, until you were with that asshole. You just understood me like no one else did." Suddenly, he paused, an incredulous expression on his face. "Shit. This sounds like one of those stupid romantic comedies."

Rachel's pulse was erratic. She couldn't believe the words coming from _Noah Puckerman's _mouth. What should she do? How should she handle this? Wait. He _had liked _her. What was that supposed to mean? Did that mean that he had only liked her _before_? That he didn't like her now that she was available?

"Noah," she started, her courage finally growing, "Do you still-?"

"Puckzilla!"

They both jumped and turned to look at the grinning Finn Hudson, who had stuck his head out of the double doors of the Great Hall and was currently looking at them both with a strange expression on his face. It didn't look disapproving. It didn't look angry. It looked like '_what are you doing standing in a dark, empty corridor with _Rachel Berry_?' _

"Get in here, dude. Dumbledore's giving you your Captain's Award!"

Of course. Of course they would get interrupted in that moment. Rachel watched as Puck sent her an apologetic look and handed her back the small box. She noticed that his hand purposely grazed hers, this time, as he did so. Watching as she left, her free hand automatically travelled to grip the star pendant hanging at her neck. It meant a lot to her, already. She was a star; she had known that all along. But somehow his words made her assumption stronger. He wasn't a talent scout, or even a fan of musical theatre, but his words were strong. He believed in her.


	18. Kisses, Again

A/N: _Hi all. Sorry it's been such a long wait I've been very busy lately so I'll be sure to be putting in some extra effort in the next few days. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more. Here's a long-awaited new chapter. Please review._

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><p>"New necklace?" Blaine questioned on the way to Potions the next morning. He had his favourite satchel bag over his shoulder, and was wearing a Muggle bow tie in a celebratory fashion. A lot of the seventh year's had taken to making alterations to their uniform in the last week of proper classes. Rachel had made only one. The star necklace a very special boy had given her for her birthday. The necklace that Blaine was asking about.<p>

"Yes," she answered simply. She tried not to grin when she said it. She didn't need Blaine on her case about Noah Puckerman. She would deal with things herself.

When she didn't give any further information, Blaine decided to leave it as it was. He wasn't his boyfriend, after all. He nodded and they continued down the corridor. "I can't believe it's nearly over," he said slowly. "I mean, we've been here nearly _seven __years_, Rach. I don't know what life's going to be like now."

Rachel noticed the strange tone in his voice. Silently, she reached out and stopped him. They ceased walking and she took in his facial expression. He looked weary - afraid of the future. She stared at him in puzzlement.

"What if my dreams don't come true?" He asked her. "What if we don't see each other again?"

She only laughed. "You're being ridiculous. Of course your dreams will come true," she smiled, "You're an amazing writer. You just have to believe in yourself. And as for seeing me again… well, I'm not that easy to push away."

He chuckled, although it wasn't a completely happy sound. "What about Kurt?"

Rachel furrowed her brow. This was a new worry of Blaine's. She thought that she had heard them all in the past few weeks. "What about him?"

"He's moving back to France," he said sadly. "And then you're off to America. It seems like I'm the only one going back to London."

She didn't let him see her surprise. "Well, you and Kurt will just have to work something out. Long distance relationships _can _work, regardless of what others may say."

He nodded and they started walking again. They reached the Potions classroom and took their usual seats, waiting patiently for Professor Slughorn to arrive.

"So," she began, wanting to distract her friend, "What's the satchel for? I've never seen you actually bring it to class."

He smirked, shrugging. "There's a first time for everything."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Don't be vague. Show me."

After arguing with her for a while, Blaine finally gave up and rolled his eyes before handing her the bag. She hastily unlatched it and peered inside. In it was a pile of papers. She slipped them out and looked over them, a grin lighting up her features as she realised what they were. "You wrote these?" She wondered aloud, looking over at Blaine.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "You don't need to read them. In fact, I'd rather you didn't."

As his hand reached out to take them from her, she snatched them away from him. "No. I want to," she affirmed. "And I will. Right now."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I swear, if you laugh-"

"I won't," she cut him off. Without another word of argument, she laid the pile on the stone floor beside her and took off the first paper. She brought it up to eye level and began to read. It was a story; a children's story. She devoured the fairytale within minutes and immediately went on to read the other documents. Some were poetry, some were short stories, and some were articles. Finally, she stopped reading and placed them back in the satchel. Blaine quickly snatched the bag back, worried that someone else had seen.

"And the verdict…?" He prompted nervously.

Rachel was in awe. He certainly had a way with words. The way he wrote; he painted a vivid picture that was so perfect for the childish mind. He structured arguments so well that she wanted to believe everything he had to say. His poetry was breathy; full of life. She could imagine everything he spoke of clearly in her mind. "You're brilliant," she told him, "But I already knew that."

Slowly, he smirked mischievously. "You are too, you know."

The class passed quickly, and before long, the day was over too. Their Professor's wished them luck for their exams, and the students went their separate ways. The popular girls and boys headed toward the lake to drown their stress in Firewhisky – whilst the not-so-popular students headed to the library and to their dormitories. Rachel found herself in the library with Blaine, Kurt and Tina after dinner that night. She couldn't study, though, because she was too distracted. She could see the students down at the lake, dancing and talking by the black waters.

"Why don't we do that?" She asked suddenly.

Confused, her friends looked up at her as if she were insane. "D-do what?" Stuttered Tina.

Rachel lifted her hand to rest on the window. She pointed to the group of students and smiled slightly. "That. It could be fun."

"Vell," Kurt started, "For one ve veren't eenvited."

"And two, I don't think it would be that fun," Blaine finished promptly. He was working on a new children's story – not studying like the rest of them. Blaine didn't study. He relied on luck. Rachel had never understood that about him.

Quietly, she nodded and let her hand drop from the glass. It was a warm night outside. Strangely, she found that she _really_ didn't want to be caught up in the castle. It was her last weekend at Hogwarts and she wanted to enjoy it.

She stood up and slipped on her sweater. "Come on," she said excitedly, "Let's go."

They looked up at her with blank faces.

"It's your last Friday night here. We should be able to enjoy it, right? I've studied so much that I think my brain is going to explode."

"T-that's impossible," Tina supplied helpfully, "It couldn't happen."

Rachel sighed and turned to Kurt and Blaine. "Are you coming?"

They stared at each other for a few moments. Then, at the same time, they replied with a short; "No thanks."

Rachel's excitement deflated a little. How was she meant to go down there and enjoy herself without her friends by her side? Still, she didn't want to stay in the library. She asked them to look after her books until she returned, pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands – a nervous habit – and set out on her way.

As she walked, she observed the castle. Although she seemed to be more excited to continue on with her life than most of her peers, she knew she would miss the place she had grown up in. The stone surroundings were what she was used to; the antics of the paintings were what she was almost always annoyed by. She stopped when one of the statues by her moved slightly. She cocked her head to the side and giggled slightly, suddenly worried that she wouldn't see that kind of thing again. When she left for New York, she doubted she would be surrounded by magic like she had been her entire life. Still, to Rachel, there were two types of magic. There was the witchcraft they practised, and then there was the magic of theatre.

She continued down the stairs until she reached the bottom floor. She was about to head out of the castle when she heard a strange sound. It sounded like sobbing. As quietly as she could, Rachel ducked behind a nearby statue, who groaned a little at her intrusion. "Oh, be quiet," she hissed at it. It shrugged in reply.

Quinn Fabray appeared, hastily walking toward a spot in the far corner of the corridor. She sat down and brought her knees into her chest, burying her head against them. Rachel could hear the short sobs echoing around her. She bit her lip as she wondered what could possibly be wrong with the Keeper. Quinn had been at her happiest over the past few weeks. Well, by her happiest Rachel meant her meanest. She had started strange rumours about the shorter girl at least three times in the past five days. One of them was that Rachel had two belly buttons. That was a particularly nasty one, as Finn had truly believed it and even asked Rachel to show him them. She hadn't, of course, because she'd been completely offended that he'd believed the mean lie. Still, it _was _Finn. He would believe anything.

Rachel returned to examining the problem at hand. After a few minutes of that, she decided the reveal herself. "Quinn?' She called softly, cringing at the niceness in her voice. Shouldn't she have been meaner about it? This girl had terrorised her since the dawn of time, practically. "Are you alright?"

The blonde looked up and narrowed her red eyes at her. "What do you want?"

Rachel wringed her hands together. "I was just walking by and I heard you crying. I was wondering if you wanted someone to talk to."

Quinn rolled her eyes and wiped away the tears on her cheeks. Her eyes looked red and irritated. "It's nothing," she said dismissively.

Rachel tried to look sympathetic. "People don't cry over nothing," she said gently. She wondered if she should try and take a seat next to the other girl. Then, she realised that that would probably be pushing her luck. She settled for hovering awkwardly by the statue on the other side of the corridor.

"I know," the blonde snapped. "It's just stupid, though."

"Is it about Beth?"

"No. It's… it's about leaving. I don't think I can do it."

Rachel furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?" She asked nervously. "I mean, I know you don't like me, and I'm not exactly your number one fan either, but even I know that you're going to have a good life, Quinn."

"No, you don't," she spat, "I'm going nowhere. I've been cruel to _everyone_ throughout my _whole_ life. I gave up my baby and I have no intention of getting her back. I could have had a happy life with Puck but I gave it all away."

Rachel tried not to flinch at the sound of Puck's name. She hadn't spoken to him since the previous night. She hadn't seen him, actually, so it wasn't like she was avoiding him. Still, she became nervous just thinking about him. Somehow, Rachel doubted that Quinn and Puck would have had a happy life together – a few semi-happy years, maybe, but not a life time.

"You weren't ready to be a mother," Rachel stated, "You did the right thing for her."

Quinn fell silent for a few moments. "I know," she said finally, "I'm just worried about what will come next. I don't really have anyone who will follow me out of here, Rachel. I screwed up my relationship with Finn and I doubt Santana and Brittany would even bat an eyelash if they stopped receiving letters from my owl."

"I thought you and Finn were together again."

The blonde scoffed. "He doesn't love me anymore," she said quietly. "I've seen the way he looks at Mercedes. I'm breaking up with him tomorrow."

Rachel tried not to appear too shocked. "Maybe that's for the best," she supposed, "You can start afresh when you leave."

Quinn stood up and brushed the dust from her white dress. She was wearing one of her pastel cardigans paired over the top with tiny silver ballet flats. Rachel suddenly felt very ugly in her argyle skirt and sweater. "Don't you see, Rachel?" The blonde asked, looking across the corridor at her, "I don't have anything to do after I leave here. I wasted so much time reassuring myself that I was still popular that I didn't figure out what I wanted to do with my life."

Rachel didn't know what to say. "You don't need to know that straight away," she settled for saying.

"True. But it'd be nice to. You know what you want to do, don't you?"

The brunette stared at the other girl, surprised that she'd known such a thing. "Yes. I want to be an actress."

Quinn smiled through her newly formed tears. "Well, I hope that you get to follow your dreams."

They went their separate ways after that. Quinn headed back up the stairs toward what Rachel assumed was the Gryffindor common room, and Rachel continued on her way out to the lake. She reached the end of the corridor and looked out at the group of thirty or so students. Most were sitting by the lake, talking and drinking under the last rays of sunlight. There were a small group of seven students dancing to some wizard rock reverberating from a tiny radio. Brittany was among them.

Rachel suddenly realised that she was incredibly nervous. Still, she didn't want to be seen hovering uneasily at the edge of the party, so she held her head up high and walked out to join them.

"Richard Nixon!" Shouted a voice she was very familiar with. Rachel looked to the left just in time to see a drunken Jesse St. James swing his arm around her shoulders. She tried to shrug him off but he was too strong. He smelt strongly of Firewhisky, and she was forced to remember the time Puck had saved her from him, when she had been drunk and he'd helped her hide from the teachers. She was definitely glad that she'd gotten to know him in her final year of Hogwarts.

"Jesse. Leave me alone, please," she said stoically.

Jesse pouted. "Come on, Richelle. You used to be cool."

She tried to shrug him off again, but to no avail. "No. I used to be stupid and crushing on you."

"That's cute, Rick. I just don't think you're my type. Still, I'm up for something casual-"

"Get off her, asshole."

Rachel struggled to turn to face another familiar voice.

"Whoa," Jesse said, lifting his arm off of her. "Sorry, _Puke_rman."

Puck looked as if he wanted to throw Jesse into the lake. "You better be. Because this is Rachel fuckin' Berry and she doesn't do casual. She's _my_ type."

Rachel tried not to grin too widely at that.

Jesse raised his eyebrows. "Funny. I thought that your type was the kind of girls who did casual."

"It used to be," Puck spat, "But not anymore. Now fuck off."

Jesse skulked off, leaving the two alone. Rachel looked down at her penny-loafers, trying to hide her smile. Puck looked away, too, feeling more nervous than he should. "You're not drunk," she observed. "I thought you'd be drunk."

"Yeah, well, I didn't feel like it tonight," he shrugged. "I didn't want to risk disappointing you."

She nodded. His words made the butterflies in her stomach multiply. She gathered her courage and looked up at him. He wasn't smirking. In fact, he seemed kind of annoyed. "Why are you upset?' She wondered aloud.

"You shouldn't have to deal with these assholes," he replied, running a hand through his Mohawk. "_I'm_ enough of an asshole."

"I don't think you're a- a… you know."

"What are you doing here, Rach?" He questioned. "This doesn't seem like your kind of thing."

Her grin disappeared. "Well, it could be..."

He ignored the implication behind her words. "Your friends are good people. You should be with them, not out here."

She shook her head. "You can't tell me what to do. Plus, I _want _to be here."

He cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"I wanted to see you," she whispered shyly.

He looked pained. "Come on," he said gruffly, taking her hand in his. She delighted in his touch. "Walk with me."

They walked. He led her past the lake and to the other side of the grounds, where they stood by a lone tree. They hadn't felt the need to speak to one another the whole way over. The silence between them wasn't awkward. It was comfortable – as if they'd been friends their whole lives.

He let go of her hand when they stopped moving. Reluctantly, her hand went to gently play with the necklace he had given her the day before. "Have you been studying for exams?" She asked. She was unsure of what else to say. In all honesty, she just wanted him to admit that he hadn't finished telling her what he was going to tell her the night before. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if he had said all he wanted to say. Maybe he really didn't like her anymore. She didn't want to risk knowing that.

He laughed. "Fuck no."

"No need to use crude language," she scolded, although she was still smiling.

He smiled right back at her. "Listen, Rach… I-I didn't get to finish what I going to say last night."

She looked up at him, grinning. "And what were you going to say?"

He struggled for words. "That I still like you," he spat out, finally. "But it's okay if you don't like me back. I'm not your type, I know. I mean… _fuck, _Rach. I didn't think you were my type either but I was wrong. You listened to me and you helped me through my problems and shit. God, you're fuckin' amazing, you know that?"

Her heart swelled in her chest. "I am?"

Puck nodded. "You're different than any other girl I've ever known. I like that about you. But I know that I've probably ruined our friendship by saying all of this, so I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable-"

"You didn't," she cut him off, surprising herself by reaching out and placing her hand on his chest. The muscles were taut there. She could feel his heart beating erratically. He was incredibly nervous. She figured that he'd never admitted his feelings like this to anyone. Rachel had never done it either. It was a new experience for both of them. She took her hand off of him when she continued speaking.

"I liked you in our first year, Noah. But you'd ignore me and embarrass me in front of everyone. I hated you for a long time after those experiences." She watched as his face fell. "In fact, I hated you until the beginning of this year, when we were paired together for that silly assignment. You used to be a bad person, but Beth changed you. So... I like you, too, Noah."

Her words sunk in and he smirked at her. "What do we do now?" She wondered aloud. "You should ask me on a formal date. Bring flowers. Oh, and maybe something from Honeydukes-"

He cut her off by reaching out and wrapping his arms around her. A warm feeling filled her as he crushed her in his arms, pulling her upwards so that he could touch his lips with hers. If somebody had told her that she would ever kiss Noah Puckerman four months ago, she would have laughed in their face. But there they were, locked in one another's embrace.

It was a gentle kiss, something Puck wasn't used to. He was going to pull away when Rachel worked up the courage to kiss him back. He made a surprised sound when he felt her tongue slip between his lips. He hadn't expected it from her. Although, Rachel Berry had surprised him in numerous ways. He'd learnt to look beyond looks alone. Rachel was beautiful in her own way. Although she looked nothing like Quinn or Santana or any of the other girl's he had been with, he knew that there was an inner something that made her special. He liked her more than he'd liked any girl before.

She pushed herself against him, and his arms tightened around her waist. The tips of her toes were just touching the ground, yet she felt as if she were flying. With any other boy, Rachel knew that the moment would have been incredibly cheesy. But Rachel loved theatricality. She loved that the moment was spontaneous and dramatic. But most of all, she loved that it was shared with Puck.

Eventually, they broke away from one another. He still held her in his arms, breathing heavily. She snuggled against his chest, and he planted a gentle peck on the top of her head. They stayed silent for a few minutes, just letting the last few moments sink in. They liked one another. But where did they go from there? Couldn't they have worked that out sooner? Rachel would be off to New York in a matter of weeks. Puck would be returning home to London where he'd most likely help his father run his Quidditch supplies store in Diagon Alley. They couldn't let these things play on their minds so soon, Rachel realised.

"I'm taking you out tomorrow," Puck said quietly, "For a _formal _date or whatever."

She smiled against his chest. Then she froze. "No. We're not allowed to leave the castle this weekend."

He scoffed. "Fuck that, baby. We're sneaking out."

She untucked her head from under his chin and looked up at him, her eyes wide. "But I'm-"

"A Prefect. I know. But we aren't going to get caught. I'm the _King_ of all that is_ b__adassness_, remember?"

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and remind him that badassness wasn't a real word. She didn't know if she was ready to blatantly break the school rules. Puck wasn't exactly a good influence on her. Still, she wanted to try something new before she went home on the Hogwarts Express for the very last time. "Okay," she agreed, "But we can't get caught."

"I promise we won't," he grinned.

She nodded and smiled as he leant down to gently peck her on the lips again. They stared at each other in awed silence for a few moments before Rachel realised that she'd left her things with her friends in library. "I have to go," she told him, "But I'll see you tomorrow?"

He gave her that trademark smirk. "Yeah, Rach. I'll see you then."

She beamed at him before turning and skipping back up to the castle. He watched her go and guffawed loudly when she tripped and fell on the way.

* * *

><p>AN: _Thanks for reading. Leave a review and tell me if you have an idea of what they can do on their 'formal' first date. I love reviews. They're like crack to me. _


	19. Let Your Dreams Soar

_Author's Note:_ Hi everyone. I'm so sorry for making you wait so long for a new chapter. Luckily, this long hiatus allowed me to complete the story. Yeah, that's it. Everything's done. I'll be posting the epilogue straight after this, so everything will be done and dusted. Without further ado, here's the final chapter (without including the epilogue) of _Stupid Ambitions For A Witch._

* * *

><p>Rachel bit her lip and allowed herself another quick peep down the empty third floor corridor. No matter how many times Puck reassured her that they weren't going to get caught; she somehow knew that they <em>would.<em>

"I still don't think that this is a good idea-"

He sighed. "Rach, baby, _please_. Let the King work his magic." He was standing before the statue of the one-eyed witch. Rachel had always had a secret fear of the statue. She didn't like it. It seemed to be watching them with disapproval in it's, well, _eye_.

It was the night before their final examinations. Whilst Rachel had concluded that they should have saved their 'formal date' for a more practical time, but Puck had coaxed her into coming out with him anyway.

"_You're the smartest witch in our year, Rach. Why study when your future's already planned out for you?" He'd questioned her. They'd been walking down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Her hand had felt warm in his, even warmer when he'd complimented her. Still, she'd looked up at him and scowled._

"_I know I sounded so _sure _in the past. But now it's getting closer to graduation and I'm starting to worry… what if I'm not good enough? I'll be forced to work at some sort of bar, singing for spare change whilst being hit on by some ugly old wizard! I _need_ to study. I can't let myself become slack."_

_He snorted. "You worry too much," he said, squeezing her hand. They slowed to a stop in the bustle of students hurrying to eat their fill. His hand came to caress her chin and she shivered at his touch. In the past few days, Rachel had learnt that Puck wasn't so afraid of public displays of affection. In fact, he relished in them -_ especially_ when Sam Evans was around._

"_I'm being realistic, Noah," she replied. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him. _

"_If you were being realistic, then you'd realise that you don't need to study because you're already a fucking genius!"_

Rachel sighed, snapping back to the present. She watched Puck remove his wand from his cloak and tap the statue. The tip of the wand glowed a bright purple when he muttered, "_Dissendium."_

Suddenly, the statue began to sink. Puck watched Rachel, amused as she stared, wide-eyed at the rule-breaking that she was participating in. She couldn't believe that the professors hadn't caught on to such a simple enchantment sooner! The statue sunk completely, leaving a big hole in the stone floor.

"You ready?" Puck asked her, smirking. She glared at him. "What?"

"I can't believe that we're doing this."

"I thought you wanted to experience something different before you went to New York."

She felt her stomach churn as she realised that they only had a week left together. And, as it turned out, most of that week would be taken up with exams and study. No. Tonight, she would have fun. She would spend as much time with Puck as she could.

"You're right," she said slowly. He held his hand out in a very Aladdin-esque gesture – it was her favourite Disney move – and waited for her to take his hand. She did and together they jumped down the hole.

They were in a dark tunnel. Immediately, Rachel felt the familiar feeling of fear grip her insides. "Noah," she whispered, her hand reaching for his once more in the dark. "Is this safe?"

He squeezed her fingers in his. "I promise."

Together, they walked down the tunnel. It was wide and tall enough for the both of them to walk comfortably, much to Rachel's joy. She hadn't been too excited at the possibility of having to crawl through a tight, dusty space.

Ahead of them, Rachel could see a shadow. "Is that what I think it is?" She asked, looking up to rest her gaze on Puck's smirking face.

"Yeah, that's a ladder. Me and Finny-D brought it down here in our fourth year. Just makes the whole thing easier, you know?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "That would have been quite hard."

"It fuckin' was. 'Specially since Finn can barely walk around down here without getting a concussion from hitting his head on the top of the tunnel too much."

Rachel laughed.

They neared the ladder. It extended to the roof of the tunnel. Puck looked down at the girl beside him to try and gather her emotions. She didn't seem to be afraid anymore. Surprising them both, he bent down to gently kiss her on the cheek. She blushed. "I won't let us get caught," he reassured her.

He climbed the ladder first. When he reached the top, he pushed open the hatch there and blinked as the moonlight blinded him momentarily. Then, he turned and stared at Rachel, who was still standing on the ground below him. "I'm gonna come down and let you climb up first so I can help you, okay?"

She nodded.

He landed on the ground beside her and watched as she started to ascend, her small hands gripping the ladder so tightly that he thought she might have been afraid. To further reassure her, he followed her up almost immediately.

"A-are you checking out my butt?" She snapped when they were nearing the top of the ladder.

He didn't deny it. "Yeah. You're my girl. I thought I was allowed."

Surprising herself, she smiled as he smirked shamelessly. She poked her head up through the hatch and checked to see if the coast was clear. It was. Giving him a thumbs up, she started to hoist herself into the room above. When she was struggling a little, she felt his hand on her ass, supporting her.

"As much as I appreciate the help," she told him, "I'd also appreciate it if you removed your hand from my butt." He chuckled and did as she wished.

A minute later, they both stood in the cellar of Honeydukes. They were surrounded by boxes upon boxes of various candies. Puck eyed them with gluttony in his hazel eyes. Still, he knew better than to make a move for anything. Rachel would skin him alive if he so much as stole _one_ pastel.

Instead, he led her up the cellar stairs and into the main store. She stared around them, in awe of how strange the place looked under moonlight rather than artificial lighting. "It's beautiful," she said, looking out of the window at the moonlit High Street. Puck was messing around the door handle.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" She hissed when she saw him. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as he shoved a hair-pin in a out of the keyhole.

"Picking the lock."

"Don't be absurd," she chastised, drawing her Elm wand from her purple cloak. _"Alohamora."_

Puck laughed when the door didn't budge. "Rach, they're not stupid. If they didn't place a charm against that on the door, then _anyone _could rob the place."

"But I don't understand-"

"I'm just imitating a key. If I can get it right-" The lock clicked. He gently removed the twisted hair-pin from the hole and looked up at her mischievously. "There."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I guess you _are_ right, Noah."

He turned the door knob and grabbed her hand again, curling their fingers together as if they'd never been apart. His hand was warm and it felt like home to her. They stepped out of Honeydukes and were suddenly flooded with moonlight. It made everything seem new. No matter how many times she had passed these shops and windows, this time felt different. It felt… _magical_ in a new sense.

"I knew you'd like it."

She grinned as his thumb traced patterns on the palm of her hand. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," he told her mysteriously.

The night air was cold against her skin. She buried herself against his side to protect herself from the breeze.

They walked almost to the end of the street before Puck stopped before a seemingly unremarkable shop building. It was Dominic Maestro's, the only Music store in Hogsmeade Village. "What are we doing here?" She wondered aloud as he bent down to jiffy the lock once more. He achieved it in less time this attempt, much to his own amusement.

As he opened the store, he smiled. Not a smirk. Just a smile. "I want to show you something."

Rachel had been inside Maestro's plenty of times. She liked to wander about, watching others play the various musical instruments for sale. She didn't play any herself – of course, her voice was more than enough – but she'd always wanted to. Still, dancing and acting and singing was a lot on its own.

Puck led her over to the grand piano in the middle of the room. It was sleek and shiny, it's top perfectly polished. He let go of her hand and seated himself in front of it, lifting the lid and running his fingers across the keys.

"You play?" She whispered, astounded. _Never _had she suspected _Noah Puckerman_ to be musical.

"Don't tell anyone," he chuckled, "But yeah. I do. Ma always used to beg me to learn so that I could play at the synagogue. So I did, eventually. She bought me a bike for it, though, which was pretty fuckin' sweet. Still, I kind of learnt to like it."

"Will you play something for me?" She asked him, taking a seat next to him on the stool. She rested her hand on his upper arm, and his head turned to the right to look into her eyes.

His eyes weren't hazel in that moment. They were bright green. She watched them as they came closer as his lips settled over hers. The moment was sweet and short – a representation of their high school experience. When they parted once more, he nodded slowly.

"Will you sing?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course. If you sing with me."

He laughed uneasily. "I can't sing, Rach."

"I bet you can. Just try it," she told him sweetly. He looked at her for a few moments before he seemed to agree. His hands began to move over the piano keys in a way that could only be described as artful. She recognised the song almost immediately. Christmas had passed, but it was still fitting. She wondered absently if he remembered the times they'd spent together on the Quidditch pitch, silently watching the other without saying a thing.

_I really can't stay_

When she began to sing, his eyes widened. Her voice was the sweetest he'd ever heard, and he thought that without wanting to seem like a pussy. He almost missed his cue.

**But baby, it's cold outside**

_I've got to go away_

**But baby, it's cold outside**

_This evening has been_

**Been hoping that you'd drop in**

_So very nice_

**I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice**

_My mother will start to worry_

**Beautiful, what's your worry?**

_My father will be pacing the floor_

**Listen to the fire place roar**

_So I'd really better scurry_

**Beautiful, please don't hurry**

_But maybe just a half a drink more_

**Put on some records while I pour**

_The neighbours might faint_

**Baby its bad out there**

_Say, what's in this drink?_

Noah stopped playing and laughed loudly. "This song could be about date rape!"

Rachel scowled. "Don't be ridiculous. Keep playing."

He picked up where he had left off.

**No cabs to be had out there**

_I wish I knew how_

**Your eyes are like starlight now**

_To break this spell_

**I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell**

_I ought to say 'no, no, no, sir'_

**Mind if I move in closer?**

_At least I'm gonna say that I tried_

**What's the sense in hurting my pride?**

_I really can't stay_

**Oh baby, don't hold out**

_**Baby, it's cold outside**_

_I simply must go_

**But baby, it's cold outside**

_The answer is no_

**But baby, it's cold outside**

_Your welcome has been_

**How lucky that you dropped in**

_So nice and warm_

**Look out my window at that storm**

_My sister will be suspicious_

**God, your lips look delicious**

Rachel couldn't help but blush as she sang the next line.

_My brother will be there at the door_

**Waves upon the tropical shore**

_My maiden aunt's mind is vicious_

**Gosh, your lips are delicious**

_But maybe just a cigarette more_

**Never such a blizzard before**

_I've gotta get home_

**But baby, you'd freeze out there**

_Say, lend me a coat_

**It's up to your knees out there**

_You've really been grand_

**I thrill when you touch my hand**

_But don't you see?_

**How can you do this thing to me?**

_There's bound to be talk tomorrow_

**Think of my life long sorrow**

_At least there will be plenty implied_

**If you got pneumonia and died**

_I really can't stay_

**Get over that old way out**

_**Baby, it's cold**_

_**Baby, it's cold outside**_

Puck finished playing the last few notes of the song before turning to look across at Rachel. "You're amazing," she said simply, her mouth slightly open in shock. "I had no idea."

He smiled genuinely. The way she looked at him – fuck, like she had so much hope for him, like he could do anything if only he put his mind to it - made his chest swell with pride. "Rach," he whispered, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

Her breath caught. Would they be able to work through the time away from one another? She'd told Blaine that he could do it with Kurt. She thought of Santana's words from not long ago. Was she really a hypocrite? Merlin, she liked the boy before her _too_ much. He might have been uncouth most of the time but she really did feel something awfully strong for him.

"I'd love to," she told him honestly.

* * *

><p>Their last week at Hogwarts passed quicker than any of them suspected it to. Rachel clung to her last moments like she had clung to her <em>My Little Pony<em> collection as a child. Reluctantly, she realized that she would most likely never step foot inside the castle again.

Her exams passed, and finally, on the last day, she found herself patrolling the Hogwarts Express for the very last time. Soon enough, her Prefect badge would come off and she'd be a free woman. A _Woman. _It was a strange feeling.

She had promised all of her friends that she would keep in touch through letters and other various means. It was Puck that she was the most worried about, though, because she knew that long distance relationships were extremely hard. They weren't going to be able to see one another for the month before she left for New York. She'd be working extra hard at the local Muggle supermarket to obtain as much funds as she possibly could, and he'd be busy on the other side of London, looking for a full-time job. They didn't seem to mind though. Letters would be enough, at least for now.

She spent her last patrol telling first, second and third years to calm down and stop sending jinxes flying at one another. She just wanted peace and quiet, but as usual, Hogwarts gave her everything but that. She would miss the school incredibly, she realized. She'd grown up around these people. It was strange that some of them, after today, would walk out of her life completely.

When the train pulled into King's Cross, Rachel immediately ran out of it to meet her fathers out on the platform. They quickly gathered her in a warm embrace. She would be moving across the world in a matter of weeks and they would miss their little girl. She was everything to them, and in return they were everything to her.

After loading Hiram and Leroy with her trunk and Barbra's occupied cage, she joined her friends by the train. She hugged Kurt tightly. He would be returning to Paris. She was worried that she'd ever see him again. "When I'm rich," she told him, tears staining her cheeks, "I'll buy a plane ticket and come and see you, okay?"

Kurt was crying, too. Blaine looked on helplessly at the pair of them - his closest friend and his boyfriend - as they conversed. "But of course, Rachel. I vill miss you 'orribly!" The pixie-like boy exclaimed.

Blaine hugged her next. She buried her head in his chest and sobbed. He had been the closest thing that she had ever had to a sibling – regardless of whether or not he knew it. "H-hey," he told her, cupping her face in his hands and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She remembered when she'd been completely in love with him all those years ago, when she hadn't realized that he didn't play for her team. "Don't cry, Rach. You're gonna be fucking brilliant. I'm coming to your first show, okay?"

She nodded and hugged him again. She knew that no matter how hard it would be, she wouldn't lose contact with her friends. "You send me your first published article, alright?"

"I will."

She left them to be alone then, to say their own goodbyes.

She waved at Tina when she saw her standing with Mike Chang, exchanging phone numbers by the looks of it. Quinn, Brittany and Santana were standing together. Brittany waved at her, and surprisingly, Santana and Quinn smiled. It was strange, Rachel realized, just how much things had changed over the past year. She looked down to see Santana's and Brittany's pinkie fingers linked. The Latina sent her a grateful look that clearly said; _I might still hate you a little bit, but thank you. I won't forget you._

Rachel continued on, reaching a large group of Gryffindor seventh years that were loudly cheering and celebrating. She saw Finn first, taking the opportunity to ask him where Puck was. He pointed. Her boyfriend standing a few metres away, his arms locked around a little girl. She assumed, by the obvious resemblance, that this was his little sister. An older woman, who Rachel guessed was Sarah Puckerman, caught her eye. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, nervousness overtaking Rachel entirely. _What if his mother hates me?_

Then Sarah, upon noticing the Star of David around the tiny brunette's neck, smiled brightly.

Rachel, seeing that, no longer feared what was to come. She called Puck's name and he turned, before placing his little sister on the ground in front of him once more, and stared at her. She skipped towards him and he pulled her into his arms before kissing her gently on the lips.

"Ma, this is Rachel-"

"I know," his mother said, pulling his girlfriend away from him and into her own arms. Puck's eyes widened. His mother had never treated Quinn with such friendliness. He guessed it was because he'd knocked her up and she was a Christian. "Your girlfriend."

Rachel smiled when she was released from the older woman's arms. "Hello, Mrs. Puckerman."

"Call me Sarah, honey."

Rachel nodded, her face alight. Puck's arms wound around her waist from behind as she saw her fathers walking toward them. They were there within moments, carrying Rachel's large, overflowing trunk between the two of them. "Who's this?' Leroy asked, his tone stern. Her dad always had been a little over protective. She smiled sweetly at him to reassure him before opening her mouth to speak before she was interrupted by her more exuberant father.

"Duh, honey!" Hiram exclaimed, "That's her boyfriend!"

She could feel Noah laugh behind her. Leroy started grumbling again, but Hiram shut him up by ruffling the shorter man's hair – well, at least what was left of it.

"Sweetheart," the ebony-skinned man began, smiling at his daughter, "When we were checking through your trunk to make sure that everything was there, we couldn't help but notice that you haven't sent in your application forms yet."

Rachel gasped. "You're right, daddy! I can't believe I forgot. I just got too caught up in our examinations-"

"Hey," Puck said soothingly. His breath was warm against her hair. "It's okay. You got you owl here, right? Just send it now."

She considered his words. "Oh. Well, I guess I _could _do that."

"No need to go panicking over nothing, honey," Sarah supplied, her six or seven year-old daughter wriggling in her arms.

Leroy looked at Puck with what seemed to be new-found respect. "Logic," he stated smugly, "I like it."

Meanwhile, Rachel had escaped her boyfriend's arms and was currently opening her owl's cage. The brown barn owl, named after her idol, Barbra Streisand, chirped grumpily. In her other hand, Rachel held the envelope containing her admissions to Julliard – the school of her dreams.

"Oh, Babs. Don't be grumpy," she scolded. "Come on."

The owl eventually did as it was told. It took the envelope in its beak and glared at its owner before flapping its wings and setting off. The group of Jews looked on, watching as the bird flew upwards, into the clouds and beyond.

"Well, what's done is done," Rachel said, when nobody else spoke. "I hope that I get in."

Puck stood beside her and took her hand in his. "You will. I heard you sing. You're a badass, Rach."

"Noah!" His mother and Rachel scolded at exactly same time.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em> Thank you so much for reading! I'd love it if you could review.


	20. Epilogue: Love Is The Real Magic

Ms Rachel Berry,

Based upon the recommendation of the faculty, I am pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to Julliard as a major in musical theatre. As a result of your audition and interview you may enroll. Upon your arrival you will be assigned an advisor to help you in planning your course of study.

The audition also serves as a means of identifying award recipients. Scholarship notifications will be distributed beginning on April 1st. If you have questions regarding your concentration or major you may contact Lila Banks Chair, Division of Theatre Studies.

We are pleased that you have selected Julliard for your advanced theatrical studies, and we look forward to your being with us next fall. During the summer Julliard offers early orientation sessions. Although not required, I encourage you to attend one of these sessions. You will be advised by a mentor from our staff who will help you schedule your fall semester classes. Information about the valuable advising program will be mailed to you later this year. Best wishes for continued success in your theatrical pursuits. Should you have any additional questions, please feel free to contact this office.

Sincerely,

John J. Richards

Associate Dean for

Admissions and Scholarship  
>Services<p>

* * *

><p>When Rachel saw New York City for the first time, her eyes lit up like Puck's did when he entered Zonko's Joke Shop and discovered that they had restocked their supply of Nose-Biting Teacups. It was everything she had ever dreamed of. She wandered Times Square with her wand tucked neatly in her pocket, reminding her of a world that she had left behind. Also reminding her of that world was the golden star pendant hanging loose at her neck, right next to her Star of David.<p>

She settled into her dormitory at Julliard; a clean-lined, modern space that she was forced to share with Sunshine Corazon, a girl whom she immediately shared a rivalry with. However, after two weeks or so, Rachel realised that secretly bewitching Sunshine's tea in the morning _really _wasn't fair. If she was going to become the best then she would do it fairly – and damaging the Muggle's vocal chords via various magical means wasn't exactly fair.

She kept in contact with Blaine, who had been successful in achieving an internship at _The Daily Prophet. _Eventually, through their letters – these had to be sent secretly by Blaine's owl, as Rachel had had to leave her owl back in London, and as to not provoke suspicion from her very non-magical roommate – she learnt that he had been offered a permanent position as a Junior Sports Columnist. Blaine was overjoyed, she could tell by the excessive swearing and use of exclamation points in his writing.

Kurt had returned to France to pursue a career in fashion. He and Blaine still kept in contact; Rachel was pleased to hear, through letters and _the telephone._ 'That's very Muggle of you to suggest, Blaine," she had replied to him in her writing, "When I first used the telephone here my roommate, Sunshine, looked at me very strangely. I figured that you weren't meant to yell into it. Although, it is far more efficient. Perhaps we should exchange numbers."

They did. They began to talk on the telephone at least every night. One particular night, Rachel was sprawled across her bed, reading a script for the upcoming musical that her class was putting on. Much to her delight, it was _Les Miserables _and she had landed the role of Eponine. Blaine had called her shortly after she had received the good news, squealing wildly. What in the name of Merlin was going on? Blaine _never_ squealed. She had proceeded to scream loudly into the phone, "_Blaine?_ Blaine, are you alright? Please tell me you're okay!"

Sunshine, who had been sitting on her own bed, reading over her lines for the role of Fantine, raised one eyebrow at this.

Rachel heard the phone being tossed around on the other side of the line. "Blaine!" She shouted into the tiny machine, "Answer me!"

Eventually, he did. Sounding flustered and a little annoyed, he said rather gravely, "Rachel. I'm sorry. That was Kurt. He's in a very… _excitable _mood."

"Oh," she sighed with relief. "I was worried for a moment there-"

He didn't wait for her to finish. "Listen. I have something really _big_ that I want to tell you about."

She paused, unsure of what he was going to say. "Okay…"

The phone was snatched away from Blaine again, and Rachel heard the sound of Kurt breathing heavily into the receiver. "Rachel!" The French boy squealed. The high frequency made her move the phone away from her ear. She could hear him running, presumably away from Blaine.

"K-Kurt! Since when are you in London?" She exclaimed.

She heard more heavy breathing, paired with an occasional wheeze. Kurt had never been athletic. "Err, ever since I receive eenvitation to vork at Burberry!"

"What?" Rachel yelled, suddenly standing up on her bed. Her scripts and various papers fell onto the floor beside the bed. Sunshine, fearing another loud explosion of screaming like the time Rachel had received a phone call telling her that she had won a free iPhone (she had had to break the news to her that this was a scam after cruelly snatching the communicative device away to save her from giving out her credit details), began to pack up her things, deciding to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library.

Kurt squealed again. "Yes! Eet ees ze dream of a lifetime!"

"That's brilliant, Kurt," she told him honestly, not even looking up as the Asian girl left the room. "I am so happy for you guys."

Secretly, she was jealous. It had been weeks since she had last seen her Noah. Her boyfriend just wasn't made to be in a committed long distance relationship. Even though this was pure speculative, and he had done nothing to prove it so, it still scared her. Every time he called – which he knew how to do, luckily, as he still lived with his very Muggle mother and sister – he reminded her that the Pucky-Puck missed her. This both excited and terrified her at the same time.

"Zat's not all!" Kurt wheezed. She heard a loud _thump _as Blaine presumably caught up to his boyfriend and tackled him to the ground.

"I want to tell her! She's _my _best friend!" She heard Blaine whine.

She gasped audibly. Had he just…? Her heart swelled. Blaine had just referred to her as his best friend. She felt tears welling up in her eyes at the thought. _She_ was somebody's best friend. The idea made her heart hammer in her chest. They'd danced around using the word for so long – for nearly _seven_ years.

Kurt was struggling for control of the phone. "Blaine! No! _Bad Blaine!_ Eet is my news!"

The phone was snatched away again. This time, Rachel recognised Blaine's loud cough. She heard a door slam as Blaine barricaded himself behind a door somewhere in the apartment that she had been sent photos of in the mail. "Sorry, Rach-"

"Blaine Anderson," she began. Her voice was rather wobbly, "Did you just call me your best friend?"

He was silent for a moment. "Yeah. I mean, you _are, _aren't you?"

She couldn't help but let out a happy sob.

"Merlin's Beard," he cried, exasperated, "_You're _crying now? I only just got Kurt to calm down after I proposed-"

"You _proposed?" _Rachel screamed.

Blaine sucked in a large gulp of air. "Fuck! I was meant to say that better." Then he laughed. "Yeah. That's what I was trying to tell you when the crazy hormone prince-"

"_I am not ze crazy 'ormone prinze!" _Rachel heard Kurt's muffled warning.

"- I mean, my _lovely _fiancé took off with the receiver."

She couldn't help the tears that were flowing down her cheeks. "I'm so proud of you. You finally found true love!"

"I guess I did," he replied. She would have bet fifty galleons that he was smiling as brightly as he ever had at that moment. "And you did too, Rach."

Although she was still smiling, she paused. "I don't know about that. Noah and I are just taking things slow-"

"_Puckleberry eez end game!" _Kurt hissed from behind the door or wall or whatever was separating him and Blaine. Whatever it was, it was much smaller than the ocean separating her from Puck.

Blaine laughed nervously. "Ignore him. He's gone slightly feral ever since he saw that Tiffany's box in my hand."

They continued to talk for a long time, Blaine even going as far as to let his new fiancé talk to his _best friend _for a little while. Kurt was a lot less practiced with the telephone compared to Blaine, and Rachel found talking to him on it quite difficult. Eventually, she left the newly-engaged couple to their own devices and found herself crying whilst watching _Funny Girl _for the fifth time that week.

Over the next few days, Rachel received word from Kurt and Blaine that Tina and Mike Chang, one of Sam's friends, were now dating. Tina had taken up a part time job as a waitress at the Three Broomsticks whilst Mike had just began his final year at Hogwarts. It was through acquiring Tina's owl that she heard that Quinn Fabray was also working at the pub. Quinn had gone through a massive transformation as of late. She had cut her once long golden locks into a small bob and had foregone her bitchy attitude for a laid-back outlook on life. Tina later remarked that Quinn had begun seeing Rachel's ex-boyfriend, Sam Evans.

Rachel and Puck kept in contact through various means. They had started communicating through letters and then later progressed onto the telephone. However, it was Skype that allowed Rachel to _see _him. She missed him more than she had expected she should have. Their relationship was only a fledgling one, but she found that they had relied on one another more than either of them had expected.

Puck was working at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley, a job which he both loved and despised. His life wasn't all that exciting, he told her – although, of course, he used much more colourful language to say just that. He saw his own best friend, Finn, who had acquired at job at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, – which Puck found absolutely hilarious as, and Rachel quotes;_ "He would be causing half of the fuckin' accidents himself!" _– nearly every day.

Rachel kept in contact with her fathers, too, who called her every night before she went to bed to exchange details with her about their days. She missed them. In fact, she missed everyone. She was starting to wonder if she could really do this.

* * *

><p>It was the opening night for Julliard's production of <em>Les Miserables. <em>Rachel wouldn't admit it to anyone but she was incredibly nervous. This was her first performance in a musical _ever. _What if they hated her? What if, like in her reoccurring nightmare, the audience started to throw eggs at her when she opened her mouth to sing?

Her fears were forgotten when it was finally her turn to make her way on stage. She entered during _'Look Down'_ and spared a glance toward the audience. The stands were full, rows and rows upon seats filled. To anyone else, it might have been daunting. However, to Rachel, it was paradise.

Finally, it was time for her solo. Gathering her trench coat around her, she stepped out onto the stage and received the letter from the Sophomore playing Marius. He was quite a handsome boy, she reflected as she hid behind the set, but not as handsome as her boyfriend.

She tucked her hands into her trench coat and walked solemnly towards the front of the stage. Her worries were forgotten as she became Eponine entirely.

_And now I'm all alone again nowhere to turn, no one to go to_

_without a home without a friend without a face to say hello to_

_And now the night is near_

_Now I can make believe he's here_

She raised her head to stare at the audience. Instead, she saw Puck with Quinn at the library, a memory she had forced herself to use to characterize herself completely. The contempt flowed from her naturally.

_Sometimes I walk alone at night_

_When everybody else is sleeping_

_I think of him and then I'm happy_

_With the company I'm keeping_

_The city goes to bed_

_And I can live inside my head_

She shut her eyes thoughtfully. The score changed, and the tune for_ 'On My Own'_ began. This time, when she opened her eyes again, she pictured the times she had spent with Puck when studying for their Muggle Studies assignment, which he had eventually ruined for the both of them. She saw their petty arguing, this time recognizing that she had _known _there something there between them back then.

_On my own_

_Pretending he's beside me_

She recalled walking through Hogsmeade with him, searching for that stupid book on Muggles that they had never found.

_All alone_

_I walk with him 'till morning_

The memories of their 'formal date' swamped her, and she smiled widely. To the audience, it looked as though she were picturing Marius. But all she saw was _Noah._

_Without him_

_I feel his arms around me_

Wrapping her arms around herself, she pictured them to be his. She wondered if he was missing her at that moment too.

_And when I lose my way I close my eyes _

_And he has found me_

This time, she shut her eyes once more. She saw his smirk, his silly Mohawk. She opened them again. The audience was captivated by her performance.

_In the rain the pavement shines like silver_

_All the lights are misty in the river_

_In the darkness the trees are full of starlight_

_And all I see is him and me forever and forever_

For a moment, she remembered the way his lips felt against hers that day he had finally admitted that he liked her too. She missed him so much that it engulfed her in that moment. Then, she forced herself to dig deeper, and to remember the times when he had hurt her, for the sake of her performance.

_And I know it's only in my mind_

_That I'm talking to myself and not to him_

_And although I know that he is blind_

_Still I say, there's a way for us_

She allowed herself a large gulp of air. The notes were flowing effortlessly from her lungs, her heart and soul in the words she sang. She had always loved Eponine's story. Still, before she met Puck she might not have been able to do it justice.

_I love him_

_But when the night is over_

_He is gone_

_The river's just a river_

_Without him_

_The world around me changes_

_The trees are bare and everywhere _

_The streets are full of strangers_

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she was swept into the moment. Her voice dripped with pain, anger and sorrow.

_I love him_

_But everyday I'm learning_

_All my life_

_I've only been pretending_

She pictured Kurt and Blaine, happy for the rest of their lives. Would she and Puck be like that? _How?_ He was in London and she was in New York. Could they really do this? The tears were really coming now.

_Without me_

_His world will go on turning_

_A world that's full of happiness that I have never known_

This note was the hardest. Still, with all of her training, it came from her almost effortlessly. It was imperfect, though, because of the sobs that were aching to be released. She kept them in, and finally, after she had belted that note, she let them out.

_I love him_

_I love him_

_I… love him_

And she did. And he didn't know. She had never told him _that. _Did he love her? Or was his attraction for her something that he had simply felt when at Hogwarts? A silly, high school romance? Maybe he didn't feel the same way. Because she knew that she had never loved somebody as wholly as she loved him. Her heart ached when she thought about him on the other side of the world. Did his?

_But only on my own_

* * *

><p>Puck hadn't wanted to surprise her whilst she was onstage, so he had bought tickets in the very back row. From what he had been able to see – damn it, he didn't fucking realize how many rows there were in the Julliard Concert Hall – she was absolutely phenomenal. Just like she had been the first time he'd heard her sing a few months ago in Hogsmeade. When everyone else was packing up their things and leaving through the doors just to his left, he was still with shock. The way that the man playing Marius had sung as her character had died, so sadly, he had immediately assumed the worst. She had forgotten him and was completely in love with this Marius douche bag! Well, he would be fucked over by a fucking salamander before he let her forget about him!<p>

When the place was finally empty, he ran to the stage, which he quickly climbed. He slipped behind the curtain and was suddenly taken aback with the hustle and bustle concealed by such a thin piece of maroon material. There were actors, actresses, musicians, _and_ all sorts of people working on various aspects backstage. He was almost hit with a giant set piece when he tried to move forward and a dude dressed in black started yelling; "Hey! You can't be back here!" at him. He didn't like when people yelled shit at him. He glared at the guy and continued on.

As he was hurrying alone, he recognized one of the actresses from the play. _Fantine…_ that's right, the prostitute mother. She was very small, smaller even than _his girl_. "Um," he began, tapping her gently on the shoulder. She turned and looked up at him, her eyes widening as she recognized who he was. "Can you please tell me where I can find Rachel Berry?"

The girl looked him up and down, her eyes probing the bulge in his jeans – and no, not _that _bulge, you sick bastard… his _wand. _Feeling nervous, he quickly placed a hand over it, trying to conceal his difference. He shouldn't have brought it with him. He'd had some strange looks when trying to explain what it was at customs the day previous. Her eyes snapped back up to meet his.

"You're Noah, aren't you?"

He blanched. "Uh, yeah. That's me. How'd you know?"

"I'm Rachel's roommate. She told me about you. And I've seen photos. I expected a Mohawk."

He ran a hand through his newly grown out hair and smirked. "Yeah, well, it was time to leave Ho- I mean, high school behind."

She caught onto his slip up. "You're one of them too, aren't you?"

His eyes widened. _What the fuck?_ "One of what?"

"A wizard."

Yeah, he pretty much shat himself. "N-no-"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to tell anyone," she said, eying the set people nearby to see if they were listening in on their conversation, "Rachel doesn't even know that I know. She's not very good at concealing her identity, though. When we first started living together she kept trying to sabotage me with her magic. I deflected almost all of it-"

"Wait, wait, wait," he choked out. "Merlin. How do you know about… all of that shit?"

"I'm a squib," she replied nonchalantly. "We do know _some_ stuff, contrary to popular belief."

Puck raised his eyebrows and then laughed, the tension between them gone. "I know how you feel," he told her, "I'm what you might call a mudblood. What's your name by the way?"

"Sunshine Corazon," she smiled. "And should I call you Puck or Noah?"

"You can call me Noah. Just about everyone does these days."

* * *

><p>Rachel was settled in one of the many dressing rooms backstage. There weren't enough, of course, for everyone to have one of their own. She shared with Sunshine and the girl who had played Cosette. She was trying desperately to fix her red-ridden, swollen eyes. Most of the students at Julliard would understand that she had gotten carried away in her performance. What they wouldn't understand, was why she was <em>still <em>crying.

She missed him. She missed him so, so much. It had been over three months since she had last seen his face. She knew it was rather silly to be so worked up over it, considering they'd only been together as a couple a week before they'd departed to see their families before going their own separate ways. But he had become a constant in her life over the past year.

And she didn't just miss Puck. She missed Blaine and Kurt, even Tina and Brittany. Sometimes, she even missed Finn's stupid remarks when sitting in her lectures, surrounded by people who were almost carbon copies of her. She missed her fathers. No matter how many times she wrote to them, that pain never went away.

She buried her head against the cool wood of the dressing table. The other girls hadn't bothered to change out of their costumes yet. They were probably backstage, delighting in a job well done. Rachel didn't want to be the one who avoided everyone. People at Julliard actually respected and admired her. It was just – well, she didn't want to see them at that point in time. She wanted someone, anyone, from her old life to appear.

Silently, the door to her dressing room opened. She raised her head from her arms and looked backwards, surprised to see the very image of who she had wanted standing in the doorway.

"Rach," he began slowly, "Just tell me now. Are you or are you not leaving me for this fucking Marius douche lord? Because I'm gonna be pretty piss-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before she had launched herself into his arms. Surprised, he didn't respond when she kissed him fully on the mouth, her fingers clasping tightly at his shaven jaw. He could taste the saltiness of her tears as he finally responded, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling him to her tightly. He kissed her sweetly, then roughly, then sweetly again. They stayed like that for a few moments before she broke away, both of their chests rising and falling rapidly. Guessing by the look in her eyes, this Marius dude didn't stand a chance when compared to the Puckzilla.

"Noah," she whispered, staring at him in awe. "You got rid of the 'hawk."

"I thought you'd like it," he murmured. She was beautiful, even with all of that dark make up smudged on her cheeks and eyes to make her look like a Parisian street urchin. "I missed you, Rachy."

She stood on her tip-toes to kiss him again. He whispered her name against her mouth before she pulled away again, her eyes wide and curious. "I missed you too, Noah. Did you see me perform? You came all of this way-"

"Of course I did, babe," he told her honestly, wrapping her small body up in his embrace. "You were fucking amazing. I didn't really get what half of the play was about, but I liked it. The music was kinda bad ass. And for the record, your character was _way _hotter than that other chick's-"

"Cosette?"

"Yeah, that one."

"I always did think that Eponine was a more interesting and complex-"

He kissed her again. He couldn't get enough of her. Sadly, she pulled away once more. "How long are you here for?"

"A week. It's all I could afford, babe, but I'll come for longer next time. I promise."

She smiled at him. "It's been nearly four months-"

"I know, Rach. I know."

Her eyes were welling up with tears again. "I thought you'd forgotten about me for a while."

"I couldn't," he told her, "I love you, babe. It sounds corny and I never thought I'd say it, but I do. I don't even know why, because honestly? You're a little fucking crazy and you've totally got the Jew nose thing goin' on-"

"Noah!"

"But I love you. I love you, Rachel Berry."

She didn't need any other proof than that. They could do this. They _would_ do this. They were just too good when together that breaking up didn't even seem like an option. They changed one another. With him, she was less high maintenance. With her, he tried to be polite and respectful.

"I love you, too."

They didn't kiss this time. They hugged tightly. She was warm against him. He had missed her so much. Her body fit against his like they were two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. "Now I can call you my hot little Jewish American Princess for real," he smirked.

She laughed, tears spilling down her cheeks.

They spent the night in his hotel room that night. For the first time, they made love. Rachel finally understood why so many women had credited her Noah as an amazing lover. He truly was. However, what she didn't know was that this time was different for Puck. He felt like something, for the first time in his life, other than _sex _was happening.

After that, they spent a week together surrounded by sky-scrapers and New York dreams. She showed him all of the things she had come to adore about the city. Other than seeing her, his highlight of the trip was that he visited at least twenty hot dog stands, much to her disgust.

He returned to London a week later. Things were going to be tough but they would make it.

Six months later, they saw one another again. It was at Kurt and Blaine's wedding, among their old school friends and even some enemies, that they talked about their future. Rachel certainly wasn't ready to settle down yet. She had too many dreams that she wanted to achieve. Puck respected this. How could they be together like that when they lived on opposite sides of the world?

Whilst she was in London that month, she auditioned for a theatre production on West End. It was a revival of _Funny Girl. _She found that she wanted the part more than anything, and with Kurt and Blaine's help, she aced the audition.

She was called back several times before she was told that she had won the role. She would be leaving Julliard early to star in a West End production that had so far achieved much critical and commercial acclaim. She and Puck discussed moving in with one another, and two months later, after a quick trip back to New York to collect her things and say goodbye to Sunshine, who she now considered a close friend, she could call London home once more.

Rachel received her first Olivier Award later that year.

Over the next four years, Puck and Rachel's relationship continued to blossom. After eighteen months with the production, Rachel had decided to step down and move on to, hopefully, bigger and better things. She landed the role of Eponine in the Queen's Theatre's long-running production of _Les Miserables. _This time around, when she performed, she also used her memories of Puck to help spur her emotions. It was during these years that Rachel let go of the idea of Broadway. Perhaps, when they were older, she would move her career to New York. But then, in all honesty, she preferred being able to live in the same country as her family.

Kurt and Blaine adopted a baby that year.

Also that year, Puck proposed to Rachel on her twenty-fifth birthday. She said yes.

At the wedding ceremony, Rachel and Puck were finally joined together in holy matrimony. There, they were celebrated by friends that they hadn't seen in years. Finn had ended up staying at the Ministry of Magic, unable to achieve a promotion for the past five years. Still, on the upside, he'd met the love of his life, whose house he had accidentally set on fire whilst on the job. They had been married approximately six months later and had since given birth to three giant children.

Tina had taken over Madame Rosmerta's job and was now running the Three Broomsticks with her husband, Mike, who was now working as the Arithmacy Professor at Hogwarts. Quinn had stayed on in Hogsmeade but had however quit her job as a waitress at Tina's bar. She was now a doting housewife to none other than Sam Evans, who played Quidditch professionally, much to Puck's distaste.

Kurt had continued to work in fashion, and was currently preparing his latest collection for London Fashion Week, whilst looking after his and Blaine's adopted daughter, Rosie. Blaine was now Sports Editor at the _Daily Prophet _who also wrote children's books in his spare time.

Puck's big break came when he was twenty-six. He received a letter from their former headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who asked him to return to Hogwarts to work as the Flying Instructor for first years. It wasn't, strictly speaking, a real teaching position, but it was something that he wanted to do and Rachel would support her new husband no matter what.

When they were both twenty-eight, and Rachel had a Tony under her belt, – for her five-month run as Nellie in South Pacific whilst Puck had been teaching at Hogwarts – they decided that it was time to bring a baby into the world.

Their daughter was the highlight of their lives, to which no Quidditch championships or Tony awards could compare.

* * *

><p>Once evening, when they were both thirty-one, they were sitting in the lounge-room of their large apartment, cuddled up on the couch, when something on their large television caught Rachel's eye.<p>

Their daughter were asleep in their cot. Puck was practically asleep next to her, too, but Rachel was wide awake. They had been watching the Wizarding Broadcasting Network when their program was interrupted by a brief news flash.

On screen, Rachel saw the creepy Jew-fro that she had sworn she would never see again. But this wasn't all.

"Hello and good evening to all of you witches and wizards out there, I'm Jacob Ben Israel reporting to you live from inside the Ministry of Magic. We're sending you live coverage of the first speech made by your new Minister for Magic, the honorable Brittany S. Pierce!" The camera panned out from the frizzy-haired, apparently now successful, reporter.

Rachel stared, shocked, at the large television screen. She heard Puck snore behind her and quickly elbowed him in the ribs. He stirred grumpily. "Noah," she whispered, watching in pure amazement as her old school friend climbed up to the podium set up in front of the fountain inside the Ministry of Magic. "Noah, wake up!"

He grumbled something sleepily and opened his eyes. "What the fucking_ fuck_?" He hissed, staring at the television with as much awe as his wife was.

"Hello," Brittany began, placing her assortment of rainbow colored papers before her on the podium. "I'm Brittany S. Pierce, your newly appointed Minister for Magic – not to be confused with the popular Muggle singer, Brittany Spears."

People laughed, but apparently this wasn't a joke because Brittany didn't smile.

"I am the Unicorn," she stated, "I am here to teach the Wizarding world about acceptance. I have many stances which I will not name because, as Eminem famously once said; _Let's get down to business. I don't got no time to play around. What is this?_"

"Whoa," Puck grunted. "This is legit."

Rachel couldn't even respond.

"I will be sending free candy to everyone via owl. This is to create happiness amongst the population, to reduce sadness and anger. Nobody wants a grumpy neighbor. Let's ban grumpy neighbors."

She paused and looked directly into the camera. "I'd like to thank some people. Firstly, I'd like to thank my parents who, thankfully, did the horizontal tango to bring this fine piece of witch into the world. Secondly, to my girlfriend, Santana, who has been there for me for the past ten years. I'd like to thank Quinn for holding my hair back that one time by the lake-"

An official member of parliament stepped in and whispered something in her ear before she could say any more.

"Oh. Let that be censored."

Rachel and Puck shared an incredulous look with one another.

"And finally, I'd like to thank Kurt Hummel."

"_Kurt?"_ Both Rachel and Puck whispered at the same time.

"Kurt opened my eyes to Puckleberry. Something that has changed my life entirely. Without Puckleberry, I would have been lost forever. When I first discovered my ability to see the future, I was lost. What would I do? Then I saw the story of Noah Puckerman and Rachel Berry. They found true love in their complete opposites. It made me realize that_ I_ wanted to find true love. And I did. I found San."

Puck looked down at his wife, who had tears in her eyes. His own widened. _What the…?_

"And finally, to Puck and Rachel themselves. I have to say… told you so. Congratulations on your little baby girl."

She paused for a moment, a smile lighting up her features.

"Oh, and Puck?"

Puck looked away from his happy wife, and towards the woman on the television, the _girl_ he had once taken to the Graduation Ball to distract him from his feelings toward said wife.

"Rachel's only crying because of the excess hormones. This time I predict that it will be a boy."

He blanched and Rachel stiffened.

"And with that, I would like to conclude, witches and wizards of the world, that _love _is the real magic in this world! Love knows no gender, no race... _no limit. _Everyone should learn to love. Go out and find your true loves."

The camera zoomed in on the Brittany, who stared into the lens unflinchingly.

"I'm Brittany S. Pierce, your new Minister for Magic. Rock on."

* * *

><p>Author's Note: Thank you all for sticking by this story. I had a lot of fun writing it, discovering things that I didn't know about these characters as I went. It was a marvelous thing to see, the world of Glee and Harry Potter combining to form one. I have loved reading all of your kind reviews and thoughtful suggestions. So, thanks a lot for taking the time out to write them to me. I know that I haven't had the chance to respond to each of you individually, but I would like to let you all know that I appreciate each and every one of you. Thanks for sticking with this story to the end.<p> 


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